Catch & Release
by QuantumCascade
Summary: The story of a Forsaken mage who's faced with a difficult choice when he stumbles over a very old friend of his in the heart of the Undercity... if he wasn't worthy of her love 8 years ago, how can he be worthy of it now?
1. Prologue

Disclaimer: While writing this story has been incredibly rewarding, I make no claims to any elements from the game World of Warcraft…all characters, with the exception of Jehann, belong to Blizzard & I make no money from this story.

Catch & Release

PROLOGUE

Present Day

The human female lay curled in a corner of the cage, her breathing shallow. Her eyelashes flickered erratically as her eyes shifted from side to side under lids closed tight against her surroundings. She was painfully thin and ulcers marred her skin. Her hair, long and lank, was filthy, matted to her head and plastered to her face. It was none of these observations, however, that disturbed the man who had come to check on her.

It was the fact that it had been 3 days since she moved.

Apothecary Keever watched the human specimen worriedly. Her physical condition meant nothing to him, but she was the last of his human subjects, and she could not be allowed to die until he'd perfected his potion. Frankly, he'd been quietly pleased at her resilience thus far… he'd administered several variations of the draught over the past few months, all of which she'd survived. For her to go into this disturbing lethargy now could only mean one thing… her body was finally giving up.

He glanced to the corner of her cage where the last 3 days' worth of meals (if they could be called that) were growing mould. So… her body obviously was no longer looking for sustenance. Irritation and frustration flashed through him at the thought of her perishing when he was this close to seeing an end to all of his hard work. Humans, he reflected bitterly, were sparse these days… it wasn't as if he could simply go out the front gates and capture another one.

He wrapped bony fingers around one of the iron bars of the cage and snarled, twisting his hand. Rust flaked off the bar and fell unnoticed to the floor, staining his white palm a ruddy orange.

She didn't move at the sound, and with anger he wrenched himself away from the cage & stalked back out into the main room of the Apothecarium. "You!" he barked, pointing to a nearby priest. The other man flinched, startled, and hurried over. "Yes sir?"

Keever jabbed his thumb over his shoulder. "Get me a few more days out of that specimen," he snarled. "I'm almost finished my work, and I won't be put off by her stubborn attempts at perishing."

The priest lifted a brow and said nothing, moving past Keever and entering the specimen room.

One look at the girl, however, and he sighed silently, a thread of pity slipping through him. Humans, he reflected, were a race that held no allegiance for him, but nor did they hold much hatred, either. He was uncomfortable at the sight of anyone being made to suffer this way, no matter the race. It was with relief that he realized she was beyond his healing capabilities, and he turned on a heel to rejoin the other man.

He almost slammed into him and jumped… Keever could move far more quietly than he'd given him credit for, apparently. "Sir!" he gasped, startled, his glowing eyes widening. Keever glared. "Well? Get to it! I have precious little time to be wasted here!"

The priest swallowed thickly, suddenly hesitant to deliver undoubtedly bad news to the angry man in front of him. Nevertheless, facts were facts, so…

"My apologies, sir," he said thickly. "But her condition is far too severe for my abilities."

There was a pause, during which the priest could have sworn the room temperature dropped a few degrees. Keever sucked in a long breath, trying valiantly to hold onto his temper, before he barked, "What? Explain yourself, priest!"

The other man swallowed again. "My healing abilities are limited, sir. My strongest abilities lie in the shadow arts… not the healing ones." He paused. "I can make an attempt, but I hold little hope."

Keever snarled again, throwing a hand in the air. "By all means, priest," he drawled sarcastically, "take your time. Don't let me rush you." He gave the priest one last withering look & then spun on a heel, leaving him alone with the girl.

He sighed heavily, dragging a bony hand over his bare scalp, and unlatched the door, letting it swing open. It shrieked with rust, the hinges far beyond the point of working smoothly, and he stepped into the cage, carefully watching her still form. Humans were smart and resourceful, and he wouldn't have been altogether surprised if she had simply been baiting one of them into opening the door.

But no, it appeared as if she was genuinely dying, and he went to one knee, again feeling pity as he slid a hand under her head. She didn't stir. Her body was gaunt and damaged, and her smell was sour, the smell of fear and infection. He turned her head slightly, looking straight down into her face.

Her eyes were slits, all but vanishing in a swollen face. A gleam caught his eye and he lifted one of her eyelids, the torch on the wall reflecting on her dull eyeball. Her pupils were fixed and dilated, her eyes flat and unresponsive.

If it weren't for the fact that her chest was still moving slightly, he'd have sworn she was already dead.

He gently laid her head down and sat back on his heels, the hem of his robes trailing in the dirt. He couldn't save her, that much was certain. But he did have the ability to heal her wounds and give her a measure of comfort in her final hours. Closing his eyes, he reached inside himself to the core of power he carried within him, searching for & finding the healing light he needed. Murmuring an incantation under his breath, he lifted his hands, manipulating the space between them until a soft golden glow sprang up between his palms. Concentrating, he willed it to grow in strength, and as the faint glow quickly grew to a blinding ball of energy, he spread his hands over the prone girl & released the power into her still form.

He watched clinically as her back arched slightly, lifting her hips from the stone floor. Her skin was like a sponge, absorbing every trace of healing light he'd offered, and as he watched, veins of faint golden light crawled quickly through her body, healing her from the inside out. Her weeping ulcers closed, her twisted limbs straightened. As the light reached her chest she took a deep breath, her lungs cleared of the deep infection that had been eating her from the inside out, and her face narrowed out, the swelling bleeding out of her. As she relaxed against the floor, he realized with a start that he may very well have saved her life after all… her breathing was evening out, if only a little, and her skin had regained a little bit of its color.

He cursed silently, bowing his head. He'd intended to let her die in peace, free of pain. Instead, he'd simply prolonged her torture.

He was distracted by her faint, weak movements. Leaning over her, he watched, concerned, as her eyes fluttered open, her gaze vague and blank. Her eyes, flat and dull before, were blue. He reached out and brushed her filthy hair from her face as her gaze settled on him and tried to focus.

She licked her cracked lips with an equally dry tongue, tried to swallow, and whispered weakly, "Jehann…?"

He shook his head slightly, his lips curving slightly. She frowned slightly and lifted a hand, making a weak fist in the front of his robes. Drawing him closer, she lifted her head from the floor and for an instant, her eyes blazed with purpose. "Jehann," she croaked, her hand trembling. He caught his breath, understanding at last, and wildly he thought of the only person he knew with that name.

A mage of some recognition, Jehann Frostheart was well known among his people. Powerful and cold, he was a forbidding, calculating figure who spent most of his time alone. He spoke little and wore his solitude as blatantly as he did his armour.

What in the name of the Dark Lady would this wisp of a girl want with Frostheart? And for that matter, how did she even know him?

His mind whirling, he lowered his gaze to hers and reached up hesitantly. Laying his cold hand over her fist, he tugged, forcing her to release the wad of his robes she'd been clutching, and she fell back to the floor, exhausted. Her eyes, however, held his, deep and sad and beaten.

He paused, incredibly uncomfortable with what she was asking him to do and reminding himself harshly that he owed her, OR Frostheart, nothing. But as her eyes slid closed and she sagged into unconsciousness, he swallowed thickly and mentally started calculating just where the mage would be found at this time of day.

He rose, brushing off his robes, and left the cage, locking it behind him. He glanced once more at the girl in the corner and shook his head slightly, seeing her breathing evening out. Gritting his teeth, he turned and left her alone.

The mage in question, meanwhile, gazed with some distaste down onto the central hub of the city. His nose crinkled slightly at the familiar smell of the city so many of his kind called home and more than anything, he wanted to be anywhere else. Thankfully, he was almost ready to depart… another day or two within the stinking walls of the city and he'd go out of his mind.

He shifted in his saddle, his mount restless beneath him. He reached down, his hand resting on the horse's neck. His horse was as undead as he was, and so they were comfortable with each other… there were no questions from Echo, only acceptance, and thankfully, no annoying conversation. He tilted his head as the horse stretched its neck, enjoying the contact, and his lips curved in a rare smile. Yes, his horse was just about the only other creature he enjoyed these days, most especially among his own kind. He had little use for the other members of his race, and his dealings with them were as brief as he could manage.

He watched as a young priest, panting, came trotting around the corner below him and stopped, hands braced on his knees for support as he scanned the upper level with his eyes. The man was obviously looking for someone, Jehann thought, and was about to guide Echo towards the lift that would take him up to ground level when the priest's eyes met his and the man straightened, advancing. Groaning under his breath, Jehann lowered his head & pinched the bridge of his nose between the leather straps that adorned his face. I feel a headache coming on, he thought wearily.

Resolved, he lifted his head and levelled his gaze on the priest as the other man skidded to a stop beside him.

For once, the priest felt no intimidation by the older mage's obvious impatience, and reached up absently, scratching the horse beneath the bridle as he leaned forward, his voice low. "Jehann Frostheart. I have… an unusual tale to tell you. What you do with it once I'm done is, of course, up to you… however-"

Jehann lifted a hand, his black silk sleeve falling back, exposing the wrist bone. "Get to the point, priest."

The younger man faltered, then regrouped. "Of course, sir." He glanced around and then tilted his head. "I believe we would be better off a bit apart from the others, if you don't mind."

Jehann was about to scoff, but the man's face was set, his demeanour determined. Resigned, he sighed heavily and swung out of the saddle, jerking his head sharply towards a more discreet alcove out of the busy thoroughfare. Grateful, the priest followed as Jehann led Echo by the reins. Once they were removed from the main foot traffic, however, the older man turned and leaned back against the wall, regarding the younger man evenly. "Proceed."

The priest swallowed and plunged right in. "I…. I hope you'll forgive my presumptions, sir, but I believe I've just come across an… acquaintance…of yours." He paused, then continued. "…in the specimen lab down below."

Jehann frowned lightly. "Your point? I'm on familiar terms with all of the Apothecaries working for our Queen, priest."

The younger man sighed softly. "I'm afraid… this young woman is not one of the Apothecaries." He paused again, then said, "She's Keever's last human specimen."

The older man's face was blank for a few seconds, his mind turning the information over, before a terrible suspicion started to form. His eyes narrowed and he leaned forward, grabbing the priest's robes. "Tell me everything you know," he said harshly, and the priest nodded, relieved that the other man was at least taking him seriously. 'O-of course, sir! Keever dragged me into the specimen lab about an hour ago, furious that his last human specimen was about to die and leave him with no way to complete his research. He ordered me to heal her, to give her another couple of days if I could… he's close to perfecting his work." He swallowed, wondering suddenly how wise this was. The older man's eyes were blazing with suppressed rage, the fist in his robes tightening, pulling him to his tiptoes. "I…. I did as he ordered, of course, though I honestly felt the poor thing was better off left to die in peace."

At this, Jehann growled, causing the priest to yelp. He rushed on. "She regained consciousness briefly once I'd healed the worst of her injuries… she's very weak, sir, but she managed to give me a message."

He paused, causing Jehann to yank him closer. The mage's breath was hot on the priest's face. "What message!"

The priest swallowed. "She gripped my robe, pulled me close, and spoke your name."

Jehann froze, staring at the priest as if haunted. His hand went limp, allowing the younger man to slide back to the floor, and with shock the priest saw the other man fall, boneless, back against the wall. "It cannot be," he whispered harshly. His eyes were blank, lost in the past, and the younger man straightened his robes with as much dignity as he could manage. "If I may say, sir," he said tentatively, "the poor girl is in very poor health." He paused, then rushed on. "Keever works in the lab most every nights until the 10th hour past noon. If you'd like to check for yourself, I would wait until he's finished."

Jehann's eyes shot to the younger man's, but the priest's expression was extremely neutral. He gritted his teeth at the thought of waiting the rest of the evening, but he knew the other man was right… Keever was an asshole, and he resented all things that distracted him from his work. He nodded once, sharply, and straightened. "I thank you, priest, for this information." He paused again, and his eyes narrowed. "Now forget you ever came across it."

The younger man's lips curved slightly in a smile. "Came across what, sir?"

Satisfied, Jehann nodded and swung back up into Echo's saddle. He paused, then looked down at the younger man, who was watching him impassively. "Why did you share this with me, priest?"

The younger man lifted a shoulder, his glowing eyes soft for a moment. "She… she is truly pitiful, sir. I had not intended to heal her as fully as I did, my intention being only to ease her pain as she died. In truth," he muttered, "I do not always agree with Keever's atrocities, and the thought of prolonging her torture at his hands was… distasteful to me." He met Jehann's eyes. "When she spoke your name, I felt it was a small thing to do for someone as wretched… and as doomed… as she."

Jehann processed this, his emotions once more under tight control, and finally nodded once more. "Walk safely, priest."

The younger man bowed at the waist. "And you, sir."

With a final nod, Jehann nudged his horse and took off at a trot, turning the corner and heading towards the elevator that led to the surface.

The priest let his breath out, suddenly trembling now that the older mage had departed. Leaning against the wall, he scrubbed his hands over his face, not at all surprised to feel a slight sheen of perspiration. While sweating was extremely rare, due to the fact that most of his pores no longer worked the way they were intended, it didn't surprise him that the older man could intimidate the few he had left into working. Sighing, he moved off, trying to remember what he'd been doing before this entire episode had begun.

Jehann, on the other hand, rode Echo out through the Undercity's front gates and then gave him full lead, urging him to a run. He was almost on the verge of panic, his emotions were so confused. Disbelief warred with rage inside him, and on top of it all, he was being swept back into the past with brutal efficiency, forcing him to remember things he'd tried for 7 years to forget. Her face, so carefully bricked up, was once more clear in his mind, and just as fresh as it had been 7 years ago, the memory of her threatened him in ways he'd never felt before. He had stood beside his comrades against foes of unbelievable horror and power and he hadn't quailed. He'd suffered injuries grievous to the point of damn near being fatal. He'd walked alone for years, loneliness a state he didn't allow himself to acknowledge. Through all of it, he'd stood bravely and hadn't faltered.

So why was the thought of facing her again able to reduce him to this?

The wind tore at his face, his hair coming free from the plaits he wore them in and streaming behind him. Echo responded to the agitation of his master and lengthened his stride, fairly flying over the ground as they rode aimlessly through the forest. Jehann didn't know where he was headed. All he knew was he was heading away from her…. and that he had to go back in a few hours' time. To see if it really was her.

And if it was… may the Dark Lady have mercy on him.

The Undercity, while busy through the day, was fairly quiet at night. Though his kind had little need for sleep, most chose to follow their own personal pursuits at the end of the day, retreating for the most part into their private quarters or returning to their own abodes outside the main core of the ruins. Wiping the back of his wrist across his forehead, Jehann was grateful… if his suspicions were right, this would be a meeting most definitely of the private sort. He guided Echo through the catacombs in the city's dark underbelly, winding his way towards the Apothecarium.

He'd returned to the city an hour before, having ridden his poor horse damn near to exhaustion. Undead steeds had stamina unseen in their living counterparts, but even they had their limits, and in return for pushing him so hard, Echo was now sulking, refusing to acknowledge his rider's attempts at placating him. With amusement, Jehann straightened in the saddle, watching as his horse devoured the lump of sugar he'd offered… and then resolutely returned to ignoring his master. Snorting, Jehann laid a hand on his neck and left him to his pout as they descended into the deepest part of the city.

The Apothecarium was an area Jehann avoided if he could. It was here that the Forsaken did their nastiest work. In these rooms, they constructed their guards, the hulking abominations that were nothing more than animated collections of various body parts. It was here that the Royal Apothecary Society, working directly for their queen, Sylvanas, worked night and day to perfect plagues and poisons of all types, under the unlikely banner of 'self defence'.

But what bothered Jehann the most about these rooms was the specimen lab. Apothecary Keever ruled here, in these rooms filled with metal cages, and tested his various plagues on unwilling subjects of various races. This was the biggest secret of the Forsaken… the atrocities committed here made many of even the most bloodthirsty Forsaken turn away in disgust and pity.

It was these rooms Jehann was headed for.

As he entered the main body of the Apothecarium, he was satisfied. Only a few workers remained despite the late hour, and none of them were working in the vicinity of Keever's private domain. Nodding to an acquaintance, Jehann proceeded past him and continued to the rooms in the back.

He stopped in the doorway, dismounting slowly, his eyes fixed on the last cage along the left-hand wall. It was the only one currently occupied by anything even remotely recognizable as humanoid, though the occupant was huddled in a corner. Carefully, Jehann advanced, his feet silent on the cold floor, until he was standing just outside the cage.

He studied the female closely, but the room was dark and she was tucked in the far corner. Resigned, he lifted the latch to the cage and slowly edged the cage door open far enough for him to slip in, wincing at the harsh grinding coming from the hinges.

He took a step towards her, then another. She was curled in a ball, her back to him, and she was as close to naked as she could get, wearing the filthy and tattered remnants of what must have once been her undergarments… a thin camisole and ripped breeches let the vast majority of her skin exposed. He wondered how she hadn't frozen to death down here, the only heat coming from the lone torch resting in a sconce beside the door. As he reached her and went down to one knee, he felt an odd sense of relief coupled with disappointment when he failed to recognize the woman before him.

He reached out, brushing her dirty hair from her face, not seeing anything about her that struck anything in him. The woman he'd known once had rich gold hair, not brown like this poor wretch… this woman was built wrong as well, lacking all of the vitality and muscle mass that his memories assured him that his old friend had had. From what he could see from her profile, even her features were all wrong… her nose was shaped wrong, her lips thin where they should have been full.

He was about to rise, feeling like a weight had lifted from his shoulders, when something caught his eyes. Frowning slightly, he leaned down, her shallow breaths the only sound in the room. Reaching out, he lifted a lock of her hair and inspected it.

There it was again… the torchlight was penetrating the dirt and grime that was all through her hair.

It was gleaming a dull gold.

His breath catching, he reached out and touched her again, this time with purpose. Turning her towards him bodily, he jumped when she limply rolled against him, her knees knocking together as they rested on his thigh, and saw her face for the first time. Before he could stop it, he heard his voice, groaning in anguish. "Mairwen…"

His breath caught, then held, as he felt pain pierce his chest. Emotion rendered him stunned and he was appalled to feel his eyes sting as he looked down on her pitiful visage, this ghost of a woman he'd once known. How she got here, he had no idea, but the facts were staring him right in the face: the only woman he'd ever loved was about a day away from dying at Keever's hand. Now that he was studying her fully face-on, his heart broke all over again to realize that her nose was shaped wrong because it had obviously been broken several times… her lips were not as thin as he'd thought but instead pulled tight against her face, her weight astonishingly low. She was trule emaciated, resembling a skull in the disturbing way her skin sat directly on the bones of her face. Her cheeks sunken and her mouth slightly open, any rememblance she bore to the woman she'd once been was slight… barely enough for him to confirm her identity.

As he sucked his breath in violently, trying to reclaim control over himself, he realized all over again just how long she must have been here, victim to Keever's whims. Jehann swallowed convulsively as the thought that he'd conducted normal business only a few levels above this room, never knowing she was here, made his stomach clench. He locked his jaw against the surge of vomit that threatened to rise in his throat, forcing himself to focus on the positive… he'd found her before it was too late. She was pathetically thin, yes… and she was weakened beyond anything he'd expected, yes… and she was absolutely filthy, he thought, wrinking his nose…but she was also apparently in one piece. He remembered the young priest's claim that he'd accidentally healed her more than he'd intended, and was shaken at how much worse she must have looked beforehand.

He released his breath slowly, wildly trying to decide his next course of action. Absently, his hand fell to her forehead and he smoothed her hair back, drinking in her features like a starving man. He was so distracted that he jumped when her eyes fluttered open.

He froze, holding his breath, hoping she'd pass out again. Her eyes were unfocussed, sweat standing out on her forehead despite the chill air. Blearily, she gazed around the room until she found his face.

Her brows knotted in concentration and she licked her lips, trying to swallow, before she whispered, "Jehann…. you're…"

He leaned down, breath caught. He'd heard that voice in his dreams for 7 years, and clutched her shoulders gently, watching her. It was a powerful moment, one they never expected would ever happen, this reunion, and he braced himself for the no doubt profound and deep statement she was struggling with.

Her eyes drifted closed again, resting, before she forced them open again. Her lips moved again. "You're… late."

Startled, he drew back, looking in her eyes, and was astonished to see a thread of amusement in them. He was saved responding, however, when she passed out again.

Shaking, he sat back, lowering her back to the floor, and scrubbed his hands over his face. He was shaking violently. All evening, he'd been tortured by her memory, the memories of her face, her hair. Her body. This reminder, however, was his undoing.

How could he have forgotten her sense of humour? Her spirit?

He sighed heavily, standing and removing his cloak. It was of extremely high quality, and it had taken him months to earn it, but it could have been burlap for all the notice he gave it now. Bending again, he wrapped her in it and hefted her into his arms, clicking his tongue for Echo as he returned to the main body of rooms.

He got a few glances from his compatriots as he passed, but no one paid him any attention. They wouldn't, he knew, until morning, when Keever arrived & went on a rampage, demanding to know where his test subject had gone. Only then would they most likely remember him leaving with a bundle thrown over the back of his steed… a bundle that he hadn't come in with.

He had a matter of hours to get well out of the line of fire before that happened.

As he carefully guided Echo into the sewers & out into the fresh air, he paused long enough to shift her around until she was propped up against him, out cold. Glancing down, he resumed their flight, able to move quicker now that she was more secure.

As he allowed his chin to drop to the top of her head absently, he found himself helpless against the memories, so long ignored, that were now flooding back. And so, as they turned west and gained more speed, he finally allowed himself to remember her.


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter One

8 Years Ago

He'd known almost immediately that it was going to be a bad day. There was something undeniably ominous about a day that began with cracking one's foot against the corner of the sofa, and to his dismay, the stubbed toe was only the beginning. Now, shortly after noon, Jehann was forced to admit that yes, perhaps today would have been better spent reading.

Hindsight, he reminded himself grimly, was perfect, and if he managed to survive until evening, it may even prove useful for the future. Since his existence was currently wavering between 'probable' and 'possible', he allowed himself a burst of bitterness.

Whose damn idea had this been, anyway? He groaned harshly as he felt sharp claws rake across his side, shredding the small amount of flesh he had left on his hip. Which idiot was it that decided he was strong enough to tackle this mission? As he gathered his strength and began once again to hurl fire into his enemy's face, he admitted reluctantly that the man who'd sent him down here had actually looked a bit sceptical, voicing once his concern that Jehann may not be up to the task yet. Jehann, on the other hand, needing money almost as much as he needed to prove to his own ego that he was bloody invincible, had waved the man's concerns away and insisted that he be given directions to his target.

So, he thought wryly, that would mean I'M the idiot whose bright ideas will likely get me killed.

Somehow, that only made his day worse. It was far less entertaining to blame yourself, he discovered, and added another mental note to his list of "things to consider should I live until supper".

He groaned again, this time in relief, as his enemy's body hit the ground. The large worgen was smoking slightly, and in many places was charred and blackened. Jehann, hands braced on his knees as he fought to catch his breath, was grimly satisfied when his opponent stayed dead.

Giving in to his body's demands, he sank to his knees, fishing a skin of water from his pack and unscrewing the top. With a sigh, he took a long drink, feeling the cool fluid all the way into his stomach as he surveyed the carnage he'd wrought.

He was surrounded on 3 sides by the bodies of 4 worgen, hideous creatures that were more human than canine, and a mix of the worst traits from both. Vicious, deadly and single-minded, worgen were a fierce opponent if you weren't prepared, and the claws hanging on the ends of their too-long arms could slice through flesh like knives through butter. Wincing, Jehann reached around to his left side, laying a cold hand to the wound there. It hurt like hell, and was slowly oozing blood, gradually taking Jehann's strength with it. With a sigh, he struggled to his feet and focussed his mind, starting to cast the spell for replenishment.

Before the bread could be conjured, however, he froze. He wouldn't have thought it possible to feel chills down his spine, but there they were regardless, and he closed his eyes wearily.

He was no longer alone in the clearing, and his respite had been all too brief.

Jehann sighed, abandoning the spell for conjured bread and instead spinning smoothly to meet the newest threat, already starting to conjure his next spell, readying himself to hurl a face-full of frost into his opponent's direction.

The spell died on his lips as the worgen stepped into the clearing, his hands falling uselessly to his sides, hardly seeming worth the trouble.

As the creature stalked into the clearing and stopped, startled at the sight of 4 of his own kind in a heap on the ground, Jehann took in the beast's size in disbelief. This new addition to his day was darker in color, with more muscle mass and height than the other 4, and was obviously more seasoned, more mature. As Jehann watched, it bent and sniffed at the bodies on the ground, anger having it rasing its hackles as it immediately straightened, looking around the clearing for whoever was foolish enough to enter his territory and attack his brethren. His muzzle wrinkled, sniffing out his opponent, and then red eyes had found Jehann where he had backed himself into the surrounding trees.

All hope died in Jehann's heart the moment he was spotted, however. As the worgen's hackles rose and it pulled its lips back in a canine snarl, there was a brief flutter of amusement and Jehann realized that, true to form, he did nothing half-measure. He was sent out here to fight his way to the Greymane Wall in the south and assassinate one of the humans encamped there. The bounty was decent, Jehann had thought that morning. He hadn't given a lot of thought to the worgen that were native to the area, however… but his success in killing 4 of them in one battle had bolstered his confidence.

Well, that was before he'd managed to find the biggest damn worgen in Silverpine Forest, and it was now advancing slowly on its hind legs, obviously toying with him, realizing (correctly, Jehann admitted) that the mage was no threat.

The growls in the back of its throat were a deep bass, far deeper than its dead compatriot's had been, and as Jehann took one step back, then another, he realized that the others had been mere pups compared to this one.

There was no way, he realized with a sick feeling, that he would survive this encounter.

Surprisingly, the thought didn't panic him or send him fleeing. Instead, he was both startled & pleased to feel the hot burst of anger flood through him. His injuries forgotten, he faced the huge worgen and decided that if he was going to die, at least this time odds were good he'd damn well stay dead.

And so help him, he'd do his best to put a dent in the bastard's skull before he went.

Feeling strong and full of righteous anger, he hurled everything he had at the beast, throwing fire into its face and weakening it with frost, noting with small satisfaction that he was still, apparently, capable of doing some damage, even if it wouldn't be enough. After everything that had been taken from him in his life (both lives now, his mind whispered), he could at least fade away with his pride intact.

The worgen, slowed by the chill of the frost that Jehann was coating it with, reached him and swung a paw back before bringing it around. Jehann felt, dimly, his head snap back on his shoulders as the creature damn near tore his face off with one swipe, and Jehann was thrown facedown into the trees behind him, crestfallen when he realized the beast had damn near killed him in one hit. As his vision wavered in and out, he lay limply on the ground and screwed his eyes closed. He didn't figure anyone would think him cowardly for not wanting to watch while he was eaten alive.

He dug the fingers of his right hand into the rich soil near his head, pressing his temple to the earth. He was fatally wounded, he knew, and suddenly all he could hope for would be a quick death.

Didn't he at least deserve that small dignity?

He could feel the minute tremors in the ground as the worgen approached slowly, its footfalls landing heavily.

Jehann took a shuddering breath, expecting to feel the beast's claws tearing into his back, and instead was dimly confused when he heard a voice.

Someone was approaching.

Oh by the gods, he thought suddenly… someone was HERE.

The worgen halted, startled, and whipped around to face this newest challenge. Jehann lifted his head painfully and looked over his shoulder past the worgen, but all he could make out through the blood and hair in his face was a figure in armour. The stranger was running as fast as they could, yelling and drawing the worgen's attention. As they came closer, they reached behind them and hefted a huge 2-handed mace as if it were a child's toy, and without pausing, they attacked the worgen.

The fight was pathetically short, and Jehann's breath caught in his throat as he watched the beast fall dead at the paladin's feet. He lifted a hand, dragging the back of it across his forehead and blinking the blood from his eyes, focussing. He struggled to rise, saying harshly, "M…my thanks, paladin."

The figure turned toward him, started, and then chuckled warmly, striding towards him. It was a woman, he realized. "I thought you dead, mage," she said warmly, dropping to a knee beside him. "How badly are you wounded, sir?"

He groaned, silently blessing this wonderful blood elf with her impeccable timing. "Bad enough, but not nearly as badly as if you'd been two minutes later." He struggled to sit and she helped, being careful to avoid aggravating his injuries. "Rest, mage, and let me help you." Her voice was amused. "You've earned a rest, by the looks of this clearing."

Gratitude had him sagging against her, and she chuckled again, laying him gently onto his back. He watched through half-closed eyes as she manipulated the air in front of her, gently calling upon the Light to help her heal him. A soft golden glow sprang into sight between her hands and she widened them, letting it grow in both size and strength before she spread her hands over his prone form, releasing the light and letting it settle into his body.

His breath sucked in sharply, his back arching, as he felt himself literally being knitted back together. His wounds closed, his vision cleared, and his body once again felt whole, strong and in one piece. As he sat, she patted his shoulder with no sign of revulsion for his exposed shoulder blade, and fell to her haunches beside him, drawing her knees up and fishing in her pack. Handing him a water-skin, she said, "Drink up, good mage, and regain what you lost before I continue on my way."

He was once again struck with gratitude as he lifted the water skin, drinking deeply. God almighty, he thought blissfully, it tasted like ambrosia. He was so engrossed in revelling in his unexpected survival that he didn't notice her removing her plate helmet, watching him with an amused smile as she waited for him to finish.

He lowered the skin, empty, and started to hand it back to her. As she reached out for it, he looked to her face, wanting to thank her one last time.

The words died in his throat. Shock and a knee-jerk thrill of fear hit him in the gut, taking his breath.

"Human!" he choked, jumping to his feet and backing away. Apparently satisfied with his reaction, she chuckled again, rising. "Aye," she grinned, "at least, the last time I checked." Lifting her wrist, she wiped her forehead absently, collecting a fine sheen of sweat on her sleeve as he watched with wide eyes. He was horribly confused and afraid. Since his rebirth into the Forsaken, he'd had no encounters with his former race, and had been under the impression that they were all united in their hatred and revulsion for his kind.

He raked his eyes over her quickly, making sure she hadn't healed him only to kill him herself, and then slowly relaxed. She'd left her mace on the ground behind her and was now returning the water skin to her pack. "I… I don't understand," he finally admitted weakly.

She smiled, meeting his eyes without flinching. "No, I don't suppose you do," she sighed. She shrugged. "Allow me to put it this way, in terms you may find easier to understand… I would stop and aid anyone who was in need, mage. I have neither love nor hatred for either your race or your faction, but be assured, had you been Tauren or Orc, I wouldn't have hesitated any more than I did today." Her lips curved gently. "Watching someone being gutted isn't high on the list of ways to spend my afternoon."

He looked sceptical. "What kind of human must you be," he said evenly, walking slowly to the tree line and retrieving his staff, "that you would spend your mana and energy aiding enemies of war?"

She shrugged, dragging a gauntleted hand through her sweat-slicked golden hair. "I'm not at war with you today, sir mage." Her eyes warmed and she slowly smiled, gently teasing him. "I will, however, promise to kill you very efficiently should we ever meet in battle. Does that soothe you?"

Astonished, he felt a rush of amusement and one corner of his mouth curved in a wry smile. "It does," he assured her, relaxing further. He hesitated as she chuckled. "I owe you my thanks, and my life, paladin. For whatever may come in the future, for this day, you are a friend."

She grinned, delighted, and nodded, satisfied that she'd done something positive with her day. "Agreed." She turned away, about to call her horse, when she stopped, her head tilted. Turning back, she tugged off her right gauntlet and held her hand out. "Then for this day at least," she said, "call me by my given name. I'm known as Mairwen."

He stood, transfixed, and had to give himself a mental boot to the ass before he approached, reaching out and feeling her warm hand wrap around his stiff, cold one. "Jehann," he said faintly, stunned at the heat coming from her. It could burn him alive, this fire, he thought dimly. He had had little contact with the living since he'd awoke, and this heat was just about as delicious as anything he'd ever felt… the warmth travelled up his arm, causing him to take a shaky breath.

She watched impassively before releasing him. Again, she hesitated, as if weighing the wisdom of her next words, before she spoke. "Do not be too hasty in your judgements, Jehann," she said softly, seriously. "You were human yourself not long ago. If you can pull any memories from that time, remember that we are as you: we have good and we have bad. Don't assume that all humans are bad. Or that all of us have forsaken your kind." Her eyes were cloudy and he tilted his head, watching her struggle with her words. Finally she nodded sharply, as if to cut off her train of thought, and straightened. "Walk carefully, Jehann."

She turned away again and he cleared his throat. "I have one question, before you go," he said. She turned, nodding. He looked around. "What brought you through this part of the world? Your kind are far to the south."

She smiled. "I was passing through on my way home. I live on the shores of the lake in Alterac, and was simply en route from the Plaguelands when I heard your struggle."

He nodded. He'd never been through Alterac, but he knew there were several homes built along the shores of the lake that Alterac shared with Silverpine Forest. "Then safe journey home, Mairwen."

She nodded, smiling, before she whistled sharply for her steed. He came trotting over from where she'd left him and she swung herself into the saddle, looking down at him as she replaced her plate helm, hiding her face once more. Lifting a hand, she touched the edge of her brow in a silent salute before wheeling the horse, leaving the way she'd come.

He took a shuddering breath, closing his right hand into a fist as if to hold onto her warmth. As he started following her path back to the road, he shook his head, trying to sort out the day's events in his head so that they made tangible sense.

The thought of a human aiding a Forsaken was strange enough… the thought of that same human then healing him and meeting him as an ally was unheard of. He'd be laughed out of the Undercity if he shared this tale, he knew, and with a small smile he decided that he'd be wiser to keep this encounter to himself.

Reaching the safety of the road, Jehann turned towards home and was amused to realize that his day was no longer the lost cause that it had been 20 minutes ago. Having said that, though, he also knew a losing battle when he saw one. Once he reached home, he was damn well staying put.

He sighed, smirking and rubbing the back of his neck. He should have taken the hint when he'd smashed his toe this morning. When days greet you like that… you have no one but yourself to blame when bizarre things follow.

It wasn't until later that evening, when he was safe and comfortable in his small living quarters, that he realized she spoke flawless Orcish.


	3. Chapter 2

_Chapter Two_

_Present Day_

_Jehann blinked, startled out of his memories when she shifted against him, mumbling incoherently. They'd been riding steadily west for a couple of hours, blindly following the road with no real idea where they were headed, and this was the first time she'd stirred. Drawing up on the reins slightly, Jehann slowed and looked down at her. From his vantage point, he could see her hair and the curve of her cheek, her lashes thick & full against them. She moaned again, weakly lifting a hand. "M…my head… by the Light…"_

_He returned his attention to the road briefly and said the first words he'd spoken to her in 7 years. "I'm sure you've had better days."_

_At his voice, she stiffened, sitting up as much as she could. Turning slightly, her eyes blearily cracked open and she studied him briefly before huffing a silent laugh & sinking back against him. "I thought it was a dream."_

_He smirked slightly. "And here I thought it must be a nightmare."_

_She mumbled an agreement, cradling her head again. "W…where are we?"_

_He heaved a sigh. "We're in the process of fleeing for our lives. West, to be specific." He lifted a brow, glancing down at her. "I don't suppose you have any ideas. I can't exactly cart a human around in plain daylight for long."_

_She shifted again, her gaze downcast. "Just…. just drop me off at the nearest border, Jehann. I can make my way from there." She paused, then said softly, "I don't want to burden you. You've done more than enough."_

_He was silent, not willing to admit that he'd already considered simply leaving her at the border with enough food to keep her for a few days. She'd always been resourceful. The idea, while one of the most tempting he'd had in awhile, was hardy the most reasonable one… but he was no healer by any stretch, and he had precious few friends who he could trust with knowledge of her. To put off making a decision, however, he looked down to the top of her head. "How did you end up in the Undercity?"_

_She was weary, her head drooping, and he thought she'd fallen back to sleep when she sighed. "I was foolish. I strayed too close to your Hillsbrad base." Her mouth twisted bitterly. "And I wasn't equipped for a confrontation. The Forsaken scouts had little trouble subduing me. I wore no armour."_

_He shook his head disapprovingly. "Why would you do such a foolish thing?"_

_She laughed weakly, mocking herself. "Because I was unaware that I had also forgotten my hearthstone beside my bed. It wasn't until I shielded & reached for it that I realized I was at a disadvantage."_

_He clucked his tongue at her, his shoulders dropping. "That was incredibly careless."_

_She shot him a look. "I figured that out, thank you." She paused, then continued, yawning and leaning back against him, closing her eyes. "I expected them to kill me outright. They didn't." Her voice was faint. "They took me to that cage instead."_

_He was silent, trying to put himself in her place, and found he couldn't. At a loss, he simply squeezed gently where his arm was braced around her waist. _

_She was numb, emotionally burnt out, and she knew she should be grateful for it. Events leading up to this moment had surpassed all of her perceived ideas of torture and humiliation, and as she weakly rested against her reluctant saviour, she wondered dimly how far she'd get once he dropped her off with no armour, no weapon and no food. She found she wasn't all that concerned… even being mauled to death by creatures normally far weaker than her was a cleaner death than what she'd faced in the belly of the Undercity._

_She shivered violently, trying to push the memories of the lab away, but it was too late. With a cry, she twisted and vaulted off the horse as her gorge shot up in her throat._

_She moved too quick for him to stop her, and her legs crumpled under her as she hit the ground. Crying out, she was cut off when her body bent double and she vomited._

_He winced in reluctant sympathy and pointedly looked away, his chest tight as he listened to the sounds of her suffering. She was sobbing in between heaves, her body so violently opposed to what she'd just been through that it blithely ignored her cries & continued trying to purge the trauma from her system. When she was reduced to hacking coughs, he slid down beside her, avoiding the soiled grass carefully and kneeling._

_She'd ruined his cloak, he realized abstractly, and he sighed in sympathy as she collapsed into the grass, her vomiting stopped for the moment but her sobs continuing relentlessly. Silently, he did the only thing he could think of… he reached out and ran a hand over her hair._

_She didn't respond, but then again she didn't throw him off either, so he continued, allowing her to cry herself out. _

_He wasn't a bit surprised 20 minutes later when she cried herself back to sleep… her body, depleted and malnourished as it was, simply hadn't the strength to keep up that kind of effort. A new worry had taken root in his mind, however: if she continued to purge like this, she wouldn't even be alive by the time they found the nearest Alliance base._

_With that thought in mind, he lifted her gingerly, positioning the cloak in such a way that at least the soiled areas weren't in contact with her, and re-seated himself on Echo's back. He made sure she was braced well against him and then urged the horse to a fast trot, trying his best to eat miles before dawn. At daybreak, he knew, they'd have to leave the road to find shelter… it would be safest if they travelled only at night. With that thought in mind, he shook the reins once more and Echo lengthened into a steady gallop._

_They had roughly 2 hours at their disposal, and Jehann made good use of them. When he finally turned off the road and started scanning the area for an appropriate spot to make camp, the sky was turning pink to the east. He pushed onward, away from the road, for another 15 minutes until he found a clearing that he deemed was far enough from the road that it was safe. By then, the sun was almost up, and he gently lowered her to the ground before he turned back to Echo, untying one of the saddlebags he always carried with him._

_He unrolled a sleeping mat and placed it under the low boughs of a nearby pine, the branches sufficiently dense enough to shield her from the sun. _

_Returning to her limp form, he bent and hefted her easily, once again astonished at her slight weight. Gently, he laid her on the bedroll, covering her with the thin blanket that came with it. Before he left her, however, he trailed the back of his hand down her sunken cheek, studying her more and more as the light improved._

"_Oh, Mairwen," he sighed, gentle sympathy rich in his voice. She didn't stir, her body exhausted, and as he rose and left her to her rest, he knew she had to have medical attention soon, or all of his efforts would come to nothing. Echo waited patiently for him to untie both saddlebags, and then wandered to the far edge of the clearing, nibbling at the grass idly and regaining his strength. At some point through the night, his stubborn steed had overcome his sulk, and with affection Jehann tossed him another lump of sugar, treating him. The horse picked it out of the grass and regarded his master warmly before moving off to explore._

_Jehann sighed, lowering himself to the ground about 15 feet from her, leaning back against a tree and relaxing. Idly, he conjured a mana biscuit in his hands, and as he chewed thoughtfully, he watched the shadows retreat in the clearing as the sun rose over the horizon._

_When he fell into a very rare sleep a few minutes later, he didn't even notice._

_The day passed slowly, both parties finding refuge from the traumatic day before in sleep. Echo eventually settled between them, keeping both ears open for intruders, but the only sounds he heard all day were natural ones. They were far enough off the road that there was no chance of someone just happening upon them._

_When Mairwen's eyes opened late that afternoon, she was confused at first. It seemed to her that there had always been cold stone underneath her, leeching her of her vitality and bruising her skin. She couldn't remember a time that she couldn't hear the guttural sounds coming from the unspeakable things in the cages surrounding her, things she imagined had once been human, or elf, or dwarf. She certainly had never before smelled fresh air, or felt the breeze on her skin, or slept comfortably. In her sleep-foggy brain, she reasoned that this must be a dream… a wonderful torment, to be sure, but a welcome one._

_As her gaze sharpened, though, her memories of the night before returned, and she relaxed, tears of relief stinging her eyes. She lay still, huddled under the blanket, and let them flow silently down her face as she thought back to the day before._

_She'd been in a fever-induced stupor for days, she knew, and she'd been grateful for it. Her hallucinations were never as terrifying as lucidity was, so she'd found a welcome respite in her illness. She'd drifted for what felt like an eternity until yesterday, when she felt The Other's hands on her, and felt herself being put back together. She remembered the bleak despair as she'd realized why The Other had been summoned… she must have been close to death. Her captor was continually testing draughts on her, horrendous creations that did unspeakable things to her body and her mind, and he needed her alive. _

_But this man… The Other… his eyes, when she found them, were startlingly kind, the first kind face she'd seen. There was a wisp of a memory then… he reminded her of someone, someone she'd known long ago… and she'd only had the strength to say his name before she passed back out._

_Truth be told, even in her illness, she hadn't expected Jehann to even get her message, let alone arrive and take her away… but the next time she opened her eyes, he was there. He looked as serious as ever, she'd thought, and while she couldn't remember exactly what she'd said to him, she remembered wanting to tease a smile onto his face. Years ago, it had been so easy… as her eyes now fell on the man in question, sleeping a few feet away against a tree, she guessed it might be a bit more difficult now. He'd changed._

_Weary, she sat slowly, the horse turning his head and regarding her. Relaxed, he approached and dropped his head, sniffing her. She lifted a hand, allowed him to sniff it, and then laid it to the smooth bone of his muzzle, fascinated. She'd never been this close to a Forsaken warhorse. As she dropped her hand, the horse nickered softly, butting his head up against her. She laughed huskily and resumed petting him, enjoying the moment._

_Her eyes slid to Jehann as he shifted. The leather straps crossing over his face obscured his eyes, but the golden glow peeking out around them told her he was awake. Her lips curved gently. "Good morning."_

_He was startled. "I've slept the entire day away," he said, amazed. She nodded. "We both have."_

_He rose and approached, dropping to one knee in front of her and lifting her chin, studying her carefully. "You look a bit better."_

_She nodded. "I feel a bit better." She paused, then said, "I don't… I don't want to bother you, but… I haven't eaten in about 4 days. I don't think," she finished softly, smiling a bit, "that you went to all this trouble simply to have me wither away at your feet."_

_His lips curved slightly and he nodded. "That would, indeed, render all of this effort rather pointless, wouldn't it." Sitting back, he started to conjure her something, when he paused. "Exactly what potency are you accustomed to?"_

_He was asking her how advanced she'd become since they'd last seen each other, she realized. As mages grew in skill and ability, their spells for conjuring refreshment grew more advanced as well. She smiled slightly. "I can make use of whatever potency you're accustomed to conjuring, thanks."_

_He nodded. So they were finally equals, he reflected, casting the spell. Once she regained her strength, her armour and her abilities to cast magic, she'd be well enough to continue on her own. _

_He reached out, extending the mana biscuit to her, and warned, "Go slowly at first, Mairwen. You're liable to be sick again if you go too fast."_

_She nodded and lifted it, taking a tiny nibble from the corner and chewing as if she could barely remember how. As she swallowed, he passed her a skin of water to wash it down, and watched her reacquaint herself with the basics of eating._

_Settling back on his haunches, he gazed at the sky. "It's getting dark." Looking back to her, his face was impassive. "The closest Alliance town is Southshore. I figure we have a good 6 or 7 nights of travel ahead of us before we reach it."_

_She nodded, but he could tell she was distracted. Her stomach had made some alarming sounds when she'd first started eating, but now that it had settled, she was finding it hard not to devour the biscuit whole. Forcing herself to pace herself, she nevertheless marvelled at the feeling of real food in her stomach. Absently, she said "Your conjured food has definitely improved, that much is certain."_

_He snorted, smiling. "Indeed. If I remember correctly," he said, wincing slightly, "the last time you tried to eat something I conjured for you, you had a hard time biting through it."_

_She laughed huskily, her mouth full. Taking a deep pull from the water skin, she met his eyes, hers weary but amused. "That's the biggest understatement I've ever heard," She pointed at him, her amusement growing as the memory surfaced fully. "And you were so indignant when I laughed."_

_He thought back, a trace of a smile on his lips. "I remember." Warm, he glanced at her. "I was very young."_

_She sighed, swallowing the last bite and dusting her fingertips off on the grass. "We both were, for that matter."_

_She held her hands up then, studying them with distaste. "I don't think I've ever felt this unclean in my life."_

"_I can only imagine," he said dryly. "We'll get you a bath as soon as we come across some water."_

_She nodded, raking her hands through her hair. With real food in her, her color was returning slowly, her cheeks regaining a slight flush. Her eyes, however, remained sunken into her skull, and the circles under them remained, leaving her looking bruised. Sighing, he stood and extended a hand. "Can you stand?"_

_She reached up, and as their hands locked, he was jolted back in time, remembering how shocked he'd been the very first time they'd clasped hands. She'd saved his life, he recalled, and had then shook his hand. It had been the most surreal moment of his life to that point, and he was startled all over again, as she rose unsteadily, to realize that the heat she'd branded him with that day was still there, despite her poor health._

_Other memories, ones he hadn't yet had the courage to face, ambushed him with the touch of her hand. Before he could stop them, images raced through his mind relentlessly. Her bare shoulder, exposed when her dress slid to one side while she gardened. The golden ripple of her hair in the moonlight as she watched the moon rise over the lake. The practiced swing of her war hammer when they fought side by side, defending her cottage from the Syndicate._

_And the curve of her hip as she shifted in her sleep, curling against him, torturing him with the unthinking promise of a paradise he'd never had the courage to seize before they'd been parted._

_With pain, he released her hand, his face stricken. As she blinked, startled, he turned his back, getting hold of his emotions. They'd once been very close, he remembered… as close as two people could be, he supposed, without being lovers. That very special type of intimacy had remained unexplored territory between them right up to the end._

_He'd made sure of it. _

_He sighed heavily, turning back to her. "It's time to get moving. Are you able?"_

_She nodded, watching his face carefully. "Of course."_

_He nodded, knowing she was curious but choosing to ignore it. Assuaging her curiosity would mean facing things he'd rather not face, and so he lifted her onto Echo without a word, retying the saddlebags and swinging up behind her. _

_As they headed back toward the road, she took stock of their surroundings for the first time since they'd left the Undercity. Every sound made her jump and her nerves were screaming at her to grab the reins from him, to push the steed into a dash, but she held herself in tight control as the trees started to thin. As the road got closer, her anxiety rose, and she grit her teeth, forcing herself to calm down. _

_Easier said than done, she thought ruefully, since discovery could very well mean a return to her cage. She could only imagine how angry the monster who'd been working on her would be by now, and she hoped he didn't hold enough sway in the city to command a search party. _

_She shivered suddenly, breaking her train of thought. The night air was chilly, and for the first time since her escape, she realized she was still only clad in her undergarments. A thin camisole, ripped and stained, was all she wore on her top half, baring her arms to the chill breeze… her legs were covered only by thin knee-length breeches. She wore no shoes._

_Ruefully she thought of her armour, which, supposing her small cottage hadn't been pillaged by now, was standing on an armour stand beside her bed. Made of solid plate metal, the dusky dark equipment was lustrous and sturdy. Realizing yet again how physically weak she was, she realized with sudden anger that it was doubtful she'd even be able to move under the weight of her armour anymore, let alone defend herself. Her lips twisted bitterly as she struggled with the idea of being so weak._

_If it weren't for Jehann, she knew, she'd be dead by now, and blessedly so. Lifting her head as they stepped onto the road, she took a deep breath, one she had come very close to never taking, and forced herself, for the time being, to be content with simply being free._

_She knew, vaguely, where they were. On their way out of Tirisfal Glades, the home of the Forsaken, they were headed into Silverpine Forest. It had been years since she'd been here._

_Not since the day they'd met, she realized._

_She turned her head until she could see him in her peripheral vision, deciding now was the time to address her wardrobe. "Where will I get clothing?" she asked, wracking her brain, trying to remember if there were any, ANY Alliance merchants posted this far into enemy territory. _

_Behind her, Jehann shifted. "In the morning, when we find a place to camp, I'll go ahead and find a Horde merchant."_

_She nodded, but her heart skipped a beat at the thought of being left alone deep in Forsaken land. "I… alright," she said hesitantly, and he tightened his hold around her waist briefly, silently reassuring her. _

_Slowly, she relaxed back against him. Now that they were once again putting distance between them & her prison, the threat felt lessened, and despite the fact that she'd slept all day, she soon slipped into a light doze, her head resting back against his collarbone. _

_He clenched his jaw when he realized she'd fallen asleep against him, her breathing deep and easy. Again, memory threatened to overtake him, and with dismay he realized that she was systematically undoing all the progress he'd made since they'd parted so long ago… the effort that had gone into forcing her memory to fade had been rendered pointless in less than a day, and he was once again swamped in the past. Echo was being careful not to jar his riders, aware that one of them was unwell, and the ride had an almost hypnotic effect on Jehann as he fought against his own memories. Letting her go once had been torture… if he allowed himself to plunge headlong into the past, he ran the risk of going through the entire thing all over again when it came time to hand her over to her own people. _

_He wasn't sure he'd survive it a second time._

_No, he reminded himself for the millionth time, it was much better to hold her at a distance. Their meeting was coincidental, and had always been a possibility… the world was big, but it had always been possible that they'd run into each other while following their own pursuits. However, her vulnerability made this a unique situation, one he simply couldn't walk away from. She'd saved his life on their very first meeting… he owed her no less, no matter the cost to his emotional state of mind. _

_He had to make sure she was safe before he moved on._

_She shifted slightly, falling deeper into sleep, and he glanced down, a corner of his lips tilting in a small smile. Before he could stop himself, he found himself remembering the days that followed after they'd met… and with a sense of defeat, he surrendered once more to memory._


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

8 Years Ago

"You're crazy, you know that?"

Jehann glanced at the Forsaken man walking beside him, smirking. "As if I needed help figuring that out."

His companion shook his head, not giving up. "You can't expect me to believe that you had an encounter with a human… one much stronger than you… and you lived to tell the tale."

Jehann chuckled as they passed the various shops & merchants that occupied the Undercity's central core, and shrugged. "I simply told the story. Whether you choose to believe is up to you, of course."

His smile grew as his friend's glower deepened. It had been a little over a week since he'd met the paladin Mairwen, and he'd simply been unable to resist sharing the unbelievable story with at least one other person. His options were limited, being a man with few friends, and whoever he shared his tale with would need to be capable of keeping a secret, but as Jehann looked to his friend beside him, he knew he'd made a good choice in confidantes.

Himotep was a warlock, a master of demons & of manipulating the dark energies around them, and was also something of a hero to Jehann. It had been Himotep who had taken Jehann under his wing when Jehann had first awoke into the Forsaken society, and it had been to him that Jehann had brought all of his questions. Older, wiser & much more experienced, the man somehow even made being undead look… well… impressive. Tall and imposing, his face was almost completely intact & free of decay, much like Jehann's own. Unlike Jehann, however, Himotep actually looked after his appearance. Attention to hygiene and detail was rare among his people, and it added to Himotep's image that he was so clean-cut. He'd had his black hair cut short and kept it tidy, even washing it regularly. Yes, he was indeed a rarity.

He wore only the best-quality robes and held himself proudly. Inside himself, Jehann considered Himotep a prime example of a Forsaken regaining the most important thing they'd all lost: his pride.

The older man had quickly gone from being Jehann's mentor to his friend, and Jehann had felt safe sharing his story with him. And despite the warlock's apparent disbelief, he also knew Jehann wouldn't lie to him.

"Well," he said finally, lifting a brow, his glowing eyes sliding to his companion. "What's her name?"

"Mairwen," Jehann answered thoughtfully, letting it roll off his tongue. It sounded like music to him, and Himotep chuckled, slapping a bony hand to his friend's back. "Mairwen," he repeated, raising his voice a few octaves and sighing, teasing his young friend. "Tell me about this encounter, then, young Jehann, and I'll decide if she bears a closer look."

His voice was rich with laughter, but Jehann didn't mind… his friend was taking him seriously, and that was all that mattered. "She came across me in Silverpine, battling the worgen. I was out of mana, no time to regain it, and I was seconds away from being eaten alive." His glowing eyes dimmed a little at the memory, and again he felt the cool earth against his temple as he'd bid farewell to his life. Himotep was silent, listening, and managed to bite back the automatic protest that at the young age Jehann was, he'd had no business battling worgen to begin with. Instead, he listened as his friend continued.

"She was suddenly… there," he said, having no other way to describe it. "She felled the worgen in 2 blows, and once it was dead at her feet, she approached and healed me." He slanted amused eyes to his friend. "I was, at this point, unaware of her race. She wore her helm."

Himotep nodded, seeing the scene in his mind. Jehann continued. "After I was healed, she sat beside me and gave me a water skin… told me to regain what I'd lost before she continued on her way. It was while I was drinking that she removed her helm."

Reluctantly, Himotep's lips curved, amused. "How rude of her, to save your life only to stop your heart in fear immediately afterwards."

Jehann snorted, agreeing. "At first, I was angry… I thought she'd healed me only to kill me herself. But no," he said, his voice betraying the amazement he still felt a week later, "she helped me to my feet and told me that unless we were on a battlefield, she and I were not enemies of war." He shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. "And she told me that not all humans had forsaken us."

Himotep's brow shot up, startled. "Really now. A bold statement to make, and one that, if overheard by her own allies, could be considered treason."

"Indeed," Jehann agreed. Reaching the elevator, they stopped briefly to board, along with an Orc warrior. Pausing their conversation, they didn't speak again until they'd stepped out into the fresh air, when Himotep looked over to his friend.

Jehann was lost in thought, his expression unguarded, and the older man felt a thread of unease take root in his stomach. Carefully, he rested a hand on his young friend's shoulder. "Well. You had a rare and special encounter with the enemy," he said, laying subtle emphasis on the last word. "Hold it in your heart, Jehann, and move on."

Jehann nodded, but his expression made it clear that he was still miles away. "Of course."

Again, unease for his friend swelled inside him, and Himotep stopped walking, turning the younger man to face him. "Jehann," he said firmly. "Nothing good would come of it should you see her again." He paused, seeing his friend's gaze sharpen on him. Satisfied that he finally had the mage's attention, he continued. "Even on the slim chance that she wouldn't kill you on sight, contact with a human will only serve to get you both in more trouble than it's worth."

This was old news to the mage, who'd been trying to convince himself of just that for the past week. He nodded. "I know it. Just as I know her reception would doubtless be much colder should we meet a second time, I also know that if it weren't, it could only end in unhappiness."

Relieved, Himotep slapped his friend's shoulder in support as they continued their walk. "It is good to hear that, my friend."

Silence descended then, each man thinking about the human who'd acted so out of character. Himotep was startled when Jehann spoke suddenly, ten minutes later. "She shook my hand when we parted."

Himotep glanced over, his expression curious. "And…?" he said, when it was clear his friend was struggling for words.

Taking a deep breath, Jehann met his friend's eyes. His own were haunted. "The heat of her hand," he said hoarsely, "has not left me in a week."

Stunned, Himotep stopped walking, his face falling slack as he realized, for the first time, how torn his friend truly was. Finally he sighed heavily. "My friend," he said gently, turning them back the way they'd come, "I cannot guide you in this." He paused, his own eyes darkening. "I'm afraid I've never encountered a human who made me…"

He trailed off, and Jehann swallowed before tentatively finishing for him. "…Wish you'd never died?"

The older man released his breath in a quick rush. "Yes. Unfortunately, my encounters with my previous race have all ended with me standing… and them not. To be honest," he continued, "I cannot imagine a conversation with a human anymore that didn't involve hatred & slurs."

He glanced to his friend. "I will not give you advice on this matter, Jehann." He paused, then said, "But nor will I judge you, for whatever course you choose."

Relieved, Jehann silently clasped his friend's upper arm in gratitude as the city came back into view. Forcing a light hearted tone, he said, "Well, it's most likely a non-issue anyway. I can't imagine her receiving me, supposing I could even find her home."

Himotep nodded, but inside him, his heart was worried. There was nothing more dangerous to the Forsaken than the illusion of life, and he was very much afraid that his friend had become infatuated, not with the woman herself per se, but with the thought of acceptance among humans once again. It was common among Forsaken who were still fairly young… and it ended one of two ways. Either it passed in time, as it always did… or the poor wretches found out the hard way, at the business end of a pitchfork or a sword, that their families, their people, no longer wanted them.

Those wretches, tragically, quite often never returned.

Suddenly sad, Himotep glanced to his friend. He'd been drawn to the young mage the first time they'd met. Jehann hadn't been in the city more than a day before Himotep was in front of him, offering to give him a tour. The poor man had looked so lost, and had reminded him so much of himself when he'd first awakened, that Himotep had felt almost as if he were gazing into the past… and he'd made sure he'd always been available to the young mage as he found his way. Answering a new Forsaken's questions was already a full-time job… but more than that, he'd made himself available as Jehann wrestled with the knowledge that he could no longer remember large chunks of his human life. That loss was almost always the worst part, he knew… the lack of comfort from the memories of being alive weighed heavily on them all when they first woke up.

As a result, he and the mage had become friends fairly quickly, a rare thing for them both. As a warlock, Himotep was accustomed to others avoiding him… not many people, of any race, were comfortable with anyone who was comfortable consorting with demons. As a result, the best warlocks were always solitary people to begin with. This had always been true of Himotep… even in life, he'd been a loner, and his demon companions had been his confidantes for years.

No one would ever accuse a demon of being a great conversationalist, however, and so he got as much out of his friendship with the mage as Jehann did with him. The thought of watching him walk a dangerous path was difficult for him.

As they re-entered the city, Himotep looked to his friend. "Keep me advised," he said simply.

Jehann nodded, waving his hand dismissively. "On the rare chance, my friend, that anything worth sharing should happen, I'll most definitely seek you out."

Wanting desperately to believe that dismissive wave of the hand, Himotep left his friend, heading into the bowels of the city towards his own private quarters.

Try as he might, however, he couldn't forget that while Jehann was waving his concerns off, he wouldn't meet his friend's eyes.

To his credit, Jehann did his best to put the entire episode out of his mind. Despite how the encounter had made him feel, and despite the desperate questions that spun through his head whenever he thought of her, he was also a reasonable man. He had a good grip on reality, not to mention a strong sense of duty to his people, and there was a part of him that was simply appalled at himself when a month had passed and he was still in flux. He could no longer remember her face in detail… rather, she'd faded to a warm blur, gentle smears of flesh tones and gold in his mind. Her voice had receded to a smooth drone, and he could no longer remember their conversation verbatim. In essence, he was moving on.

Unfortunately, what he COULD still remember was the sensation of clasping her hand in his… and the flood of shock that she wasn't recoiling.

Now, a month later, Jehann lifted this same hand and studied it carefully. All Forsaken were, unfortunately, in one state of decay or another… their appearance depended on how far along the decay had advanced before they'd been liberated and returned to sanity. In appearance, his people were as varied as any other race of individuals, and he'd realized quite quickly upon joining their ranks that he was one of the lucky ones. Some of his people were, frankly, horrifying. He was acquainted with citizens whose faces had almost vanished during their enslavement, and so far, they'd found no way to reverse the damage. Some woke up with only one arm, or misshapen legs, or with features almost rubbed out of existence, leaving them with missing lower jaws or empty eye sockets. Yes, he reflected again as he turned his hand over & studied the back, he supposed he had plenty to be grateful for.

There were only a few traits that the Forsaken all shared. Aside from the softly glowing eyes that marked them 'undead', the most prevalent was the inability to retain the flesh on their joints. The simple wear & tear of a normal life soon eroded the flesh from their elbows & knees, and in many, their hip bones as well. The fingers & toes succumbed quickly, and in this way, he supposed the state of decay did indeed advance, in its own way… if one lived long enough, would they eventually wear all of their skin off? He shuddered at the thought of walking around with even less skin than he had, and shifted in his chair, lowering his hand.

As fascinating as this line of thought was, he had something more important to ponder at the moment.

He was in his private quarters of the city, a room that could only be described as 'functional'. Small and cramped, it suited his needs when he wished to be alone, and that was about it. Sparsely furnished, the 4 walls held a small table, a wooden chair (upon which he now sat), a small ancient couch that doubled as a bed, and a trunk. The trunk was by far the only thing in the room worth any gold… large and wrought of mahogany, it was the only memento he had from his former life.

He'd made the trip back to his home village a year ago, seeing no other way to move on into his new life than by proving to himself that his village, and by connection, his old life, had been destroyed.

He'd arrived to find his old village abandoned, the breeze picking up dust and creating eddies between houses with broken windows and lonely echoes. A small rural village, it was now little more than a smear on the surrounding countryside, and as he'd picked his way through his old house, he'd had an almost violent grip on his emotions at the proof, solid and tangible, that his old life was forever gone.

There were no bodies, though he knew everyone who'd once lived here were long dead. Of course there are no bodies, he'd thought, his mouth twisting with suppressed anger. Innate corpses were poor footmen. Everyone who'd been slaughtered by Arthas' army of the dead, himself included, had been immediately raised from where they'd fallen and forced to plod on, unthinking, unfeeling. With real gratitude, he'd realized he remembered nothing of his time as a slave.

Small mercies were mercies nonetheless.

The trunk had been found in the room his parents had shared, and he'd been stunned to see it untouched, at the foot of their bed, the way it had always been. With shaking hands, he'd lifted the lid slowly, allowing it to fall open as he'd gazed inside at what was left of his humanity.

At this point, he'd almost lost control of his emotions. Until that moment, he'd remembered his parents only in bits and pieces… as living people in a day to day life, they were ghosts, barely accessible to his memory.

Ironically, his most vivid memory of them was moments before they'd all been killed. He'd stood between them, defending their home against horrors none of them should ever have encountered. He supposed, to the invading army, they'd seemed as pathetic as their farming neighbours… Jehann remembered the rusted garden tool he'd wielded, clumsy as a child in his fear. His father had held a sword, the only true weapon the family owned, but it was a family heirloom and he'd had no training. And his mother… with grief, he'd remembered her standing defiantly before a monster easily three times her height, an unholy creature that may once have been several different men… thick seams held its limbs together, ichor oozing from between the stitches as it shambled forward mindlessly, arms outstretched. She'd brandished nothing more threatening than a cast iron frying pan.

She'd still been standing when he and his father fell, he'd recalled… and as he died, he'd once again been amazed at the insane strength of a woman whose brood is threatened.

There was nothing special inside the trunk… bolts of fabric, a couple of old books. He could no longer remember if his mother had liked to read. The books were written in Common, a language he knew he'd once spoken, but so much of his old life was erased that it was difficult for him to speak it now. He'd reverently emptied the trunk of everything except the cloth and had lugged it home on foot… at that point, he barely had enough money to eat, let alone purchase a horse. The trip had taken over 4 days, and when he'd returned to the Undercity, he'd taken the trunk straight to his quarters, treating it with the respect he felt he owed to his parents themselves.

Nowadays, it housed mostly practical items, and he glanced over at it from his seat at the table. He owned several sets of robes, a must-have for a mage. Magical properties woven into the fabric as each robe was being made enhanced his spells & abilities, and in a very real way, his robes and armour were as essential to his survival as his wits were.

His most prized possession inside that trunk, however, was a cloak of fine silk. Long and black, it reminded him of a rippling shadow as he walked, and he'd worked long and hard on it, imbuing it with as much magical protection as he could. He'd crafted it himself… he'd been a tailor in life, as his mother had been, and knew no other trade. It had made sense to pick it up again once he'd been liberated.

The cloak was made from the cloth his mother had obviously one day intended to use… it had been of a quality that startled him. He could remember being quite poor in life, and he imagined his mother must have coveted the bolts like treasure. Whenever he wore it, he wondered what it had been intended for, and hoped she'd have been pleased by his rendering of it.

Rolling his shoulders, he shook off the nostalgia and returned his gaze to the scroll of paper on the table in front of him. He'd been working steadily in the past month to gain strength and grow both in power and knowledge, and he'd received this scroll in the mail only hours before. He'd read it right there at the mailbox, correspondence being a rare treat for him, and its contents had sent his mind to spinning. Picking it up again, he leaned forward, pulled his candle closer, and read it for the hundredth time.

"_To Jehann Frostheart, mage of the Forsaken:_

_My name is High Executor Darthalia, and I head the forces stationed here in Tarren Mill. Aside from commanding the troops here, it's also my area of responsibility to recruit new fighters for our cause. Word has reached me of your increasing skill, and it's my belief that we can find an arrangement agreeable to us both. The Dark Lady's cause needs skilled fighters such as you… in return, you'll be paid more than fairly for any service you can render to us. We have several professional trainers here, and the opportunity to increase various skills or explore different interests exists here more so than in the Undercity. Please send a reply within two days of receiving this scroll indicating whether we can expect you. _

_I'm sure I needn't remind you that it would be in your best interest to branch out and experience more than city life. As a Forsaken, it is your duty to grow in skill and ability… to defend your new life, and to champion our Queen's cause. We can aid you in both. Directions to our base are attached._

_I await your response._

_Victory for Sylvanas, brother!_

_~ High Executor Darthalia, Tarren Mill_."

He sat back, lifting a hand and pinching the bridge of his nose, torn. He was of two minds when it came to relocating. On the one hand, he'd never been opposed to the idea of leaving the Undercity… he'd simply had nowhere better to go. The city, though now familiar & safe, sometimes felt stifling to him, not to mention the aroma… he sometimes wondered if he was the only Forsaken who still had his sense of smell.

On the other hand… Tarren Mill was in the province of the Hillsbrad Foothills, a three-day ride for one such as him, who had no real need for sleep and could ride without having to stop.

It was also less than a day's ride from the province of Alterac, and the shores of the Lordeamere Lake.

After the month of emotional turmoil he'd had, did he really want to relocate to within a day's ride from Mairwen's home?

Here in Tirisfal Glades, safe in the Undercity, he was far enough from Alterac that the temptation to seek her out was blessedly absent. It simply wasn't feasible. But to move to the Hillsbrad Foothills, there'd only be a mountain between them, and it wasn't even that big of a mountain… a trip easily made in a day of non-stop riding.

He'd be a fool, an absolute fool, to take the High Executor up on her offer.

Admitting that, however, in no way stilled the trembling of his hands as he thought of it, and he sank back in his chair, releasing his breath shakily. Was he a traitor simply for thinking this way? Was he committing treason simply by knowing that should they meet again, he WOULDN'T kill her, as he knew he should?

Absolutely, he admitted, and rubbed the back of his neck, tension causing the muscles to lock in his shoulders. But as disturbing as that may be, what was truly frightening was the knowledge that he was no longer sure if he could resist the temptation.

Something had happened, that day in the forest, and he'd been unable to move beyond it, no matter how hard he tried. It didn't matter how normal he acted when he was with Himotep… on the inside, he was always drawn as tight as a bowstring. He could no longer even say what it was about the encounter, truly, that held him spellbound… to be sure, a decent reception from a human was rare, but he couldn't believe it never happened. The heat of the life inside her had scalded him, but all living people had a pulse, and he'd yet to react this strongly to anyone else. There truly was no logical reason for him to still be so vulnerable to the thought of encountering her a second time.

It threatened to drive him mad, however, and a sudden thought had him sitting up straighter in his chair: it was altogether possible that seeing her again could answer these questions for him. After all, he'd been in a fragile emotional state when they'd met… exhausted, depleted, he'd been in a poor position to react the way he knew he should have when she'd removed her helm. Perhaps a second encounter, one where he was in control of himself, would give him clarity.

He reached across the table and plucked his quill from the small pot of ink it rested in, hunching over the paper. Ignoring the small voice inside him that was shrieking at him to stop, that was insisting that he was only creating excuses to do something incredibly foolish, he quickly scribbled a response below the High Executor's message and re-rolled the scroll, sealing it with wax from his candle before rising and heading towards the upper level of the city.

Towards the mailbox.

By the time he reached it, he was shaking so badly that he dropped the scroll twice before he was able to slide it through the slot, and faintly, from inside the wooden box, he heard the soft tap as it came to rest on top of the other correspondence waiting to be delivered.

Looking back now, he knew that it had been at that point, with that soft sound, that his life took a sharp turn, tilted, and started to de-rail.


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

Present Day

Mairwen slept off and on well into the night, waking only long enough each time to reassure herself that she was, indeed, still on Jehann's horse, still headed towards freedom. A couple of hours before dawn, however, her eyes finally opened fully and she squinted, looking around.

The terrain had started to subtly change through the night… the trees were thinning out, the road was widening. On the breeze, she could smell the faint coppery smell of water, and when she looked to the left, in the far distance, she could see a glimmer of moonlight reflecting off of what must have been the Lordeamere Lake. Energized, she sat up straight, craning her neck to try to get a better look, and Jehann followed her eyes before smirking faintly. "Yes, that's your lake." He paused, then said, amused, "Though we're on the wrong side of it."

"I don't care," she breathed, her eyes fixed on the faint sheen of the lake through the trees. "I never expected to see it again, from any side."

She turned carefully and looked up at him, her eyes deep and solemn. He looked down and met them, tilting his head slightly. She swallowed and said, "I have yet to thank you for taking me away, Jehann. I know I was likely the last thing on your mind, and now your entire life has been complicated." Her lips curved, bittersweet. "It seems I'm always going to complicate your life in one way or another. If asking for you hadn't resulted in saving my life, I'd apologize."

He shook his head, wrenching his eyes from hers and focussing on the road ahead. "I could not leave you there once I'd determined who it was that had been asking for me."

She bit her lip, uncertain how to respond. He saved her from having to reply when he continued. "You saved my life, Mairwen, that day." He glanced back to her. "I could do no less."

She paused, then nodded, recognizing the streak of pride from the man she'd known years ago. "Thank you, then. For the rest of my life, I'll be grateful to you for every sunrise." She sighed and turned back to facing forward, muttering "Supposing I ever get strong enough to wear my armour without falling over, of course…"

He snorted, a grin flirting with his mouth. "Let's get you safely back into your own lands first, shall we? From there you can resume training."

She sighed, forcing herself to admit he was right. She was getting ahead of herself. To distract herself, she looked around. "How far into Silverpine Forest are we?"

He tilted his head, considering. "We crossed the border almost 4 hours ago. We'll travel another hour and then turn our attention to finding a place to camp." Deliberately warming his voice, he teased her gently. "Preferably somewhere close to running water. Your smell could raise the dead."

She was startled by the joke and laughed huskily. "You'd know, wouldn't you."

This time he didn't fight the grin, and shook his head, chuckling. "Your sharp tongue has certainly travelled with you, I see. Not to mention your disrespect."

Smiling, her eyes closed and she tilted her head back, resting it once more on his chest. "As much as it pains me, sir mage, I'm afraid I have to agree with you… I smell terrible."

He squeezed her waist gently. "We will remedy that in the morning." He paused, then said, "And while you're scraping months of dirt off of your hands, I'll go ahead & find you something to wear."

"That would be nice," she said, her nose wrinkling as she picked listlessly at the camisole she wore. "Sleeves have become an impossible dream."

"You will have them," he assured her. "I'll even throw in the pants for free."

She smiled briefly. "Very kind of you, sir."

He rolled his shoulders, loosening them. "What can I say… I'm just that kind of man."

She smiled again, but didn't reply, her eyes again going to the horizon, seeking the lake. It had vanished among the trees as they'd travelled, and she was suddenly sorry to see it go… though she couldn't see it, her cottage was somewhere on the other side of that lake. For a few minutes, she had almost felt as though she were almost home.

Returning her gaze to the road ahead, she sighed silently. Unfortunately, she was a long way away from being home, no matter how much she might wish she could sprout wings & simply fly across the water. She was still astonishingly weak, her limbs trembling from lack of use now that she was forcing the muscles to work again. When Jehann left her in a couple of hours, she knew she'd be at the mercy of any enemies, humanoid or otherwise, that came across her. Again, she cursed her weakness, and for the thousandth time in the past few months, she mentally berated herself for getting caught in the first place.

She'd been an idiot, she thought harshly, a raving idiot to be so close to enemy territory without any protection. As a paladin, if she'd had her weapon with her that day, dealing with the Forsaken scouts who'd captured her would have barely caused a sweat. Instead, she had no way to defend herself, and the hearthstone that was always her final option had been forgotten. They'd found her easy prey, and she was ashamed and embarrassed to admit it.

She had her head in the clouds too much, she thought now. She'd started that day wanting only to spend some time out of her armour, away from war and fighting and death. So she'd put on a simple dress, left her hair down, and to add insult to injury, when the scouts came across her, she'd been picking flowers, of all things.

She shook her head in disgust at her carelessness, and Jehann lifted a brow. "I get the feeling those are some heavy thoughts. You've been shaking your head for almost 5 minutes."

She made a harsh sound in her throat, scoffing at herself. "I was just remembering the day I was captured."

He paused, waiting, and when she didn't continue, he said, "Yes? I must admit, I'm curious about that day."

She rolled her eyes. "The Forsaken scouts caught me picking peacebloom flowers."

He was silent for a few moments, and she thought he hadn't heard her. She was about to repeat herself when she realized his chest was trembling.

Alarmed, she whipped around, concerned for him, when she saw his face.

He'd lowered his head, his expression tight, his lips pressed together so tight they all but disappeared. As her eyes narrowed, his shoulders started shaking, and before she could retort, he surrendered, laughing out loud.

He shook his head, laughing. "Oh you poor girl," he laughed. "You always did forget to keep your feet on the ground."

Her eyes narrowed further. "I would think," she said frostily, "that the events that followed would render laughter a bit inappropriate for this conversation."

"Of course," he agreed, but his lips still twitched. As she turned her back on him, he gave her waist a quick squeeze. "Mairwen," he chuckled, "it's very likely that I'm now an outcast. Forgive me if I think a little laughter might make the situation seem less dire."

Startled, she turned her head, looking up to him again. "An outcast!"

Her expression was appalled, and he immediately regretted pointing it out. Uncomfortable, he shifted, but the topic had been broached… it was too late to backpeddle. "It's likely, yes."

"That's a bit harsh, isn't it?" she asked quickly, hoping he was exaggerating.

He shot her an incredulous look. "Harsh? Let's see," he said, tilting his head and starting a list. "I'm committing treason simply by having you here and not killing you. I committed treason by rescuing you from Keever's lab. Come to that," he continued, as her expression grew more horrified, "you were his last subject, and he's very close to finishing the plague our Queen has tasked him with. That means he has no means of continuing his work until they find another subject… meaning I've just single-handedly set the war effort back at least a few weeks." He looked down at her, all laughter gone. "I've just openly defied Sylvanas. We have very few rules imposed upon us, Mairwen, but I've broken several with this act alone."

She was speechless, and as he watched, her eyes filled with tears. Alarmed, he lifted a hand and rested it on her shoulder as her eyes fell closed. Two tears slid from beneath her lashes as she struggled to get hold of herself, and she sniffed. "Come now," he chided gently. "I did it all willingly." He paused. "Come to think of it, I would do it again if I had to."

She opened her eyes, watching him quietly, her eyes glittering. "Is a debt," she asked softly, "worth so much to you? A debt that was only ever in your head, and not mine?"

He looked down at her, thinking to himself that, in reality, it had very little to do with the ghost of an old favour he felt he owed her. As he studied her features, he could see past the sunken cheeks, the bruised eyes, and saw the promise underneath. The blush of her skin, once it was healthy again. The weight of her hair, once it had been washed & looked after. He could see how she'd look once she was restored to her old self.

The world, HIS world, would be a better place if he knew that somewhere, she was in it. Healthy and safe. He could no more have allowed her to die than he could have halted the sun.

But all of this was crossing the line he'd set for himself, and saying these things definitely did not qualify as 'keeping her at a distance.'

He met her eyes. "Yes," he said simply, "I owe you my life. And so I returned yours."

She tilted her head, studying him, and then lifted a shoulder, ready to abandon the topic. "You always were full of strange ideas," she said, one corner of her mouth tilting in a small smile.

He smiled back, relieved to be moving on from the uncomfortable subject. "I never claimed otherwise."

She settled back against him once more and this time, they rode on in silence, each lost to their thoughts.

A short time later, Jehann guided Echo off of the main road yet again, and started looking for somewhere suitable to camp for the day. It was more difficult here… the forest wasn't as thick here, and the general area was more populated than the outskirts of Tirisfal Glades had been. However, within the hour, he'd found them a small clearing about 20 minutes off the road. Barely big enough for 2 people to comfortably sleep, it was sheltered on all sides by towering pines, and there was no sign that anyone else had ever been here, let alone within the past couple of weeks.

But the best part was, once she'd carefully dismounted, she could hear the faint sound of water running.

Suddenly, her skin started to itch at the same time she felt her mouth dry out. Not sure if she wanted to drink first or bathe first, she looked up to where he was still seated on Echo, preparing to leave. He looked down at her sternly. "Go no further than the creek, and as soon as you're done with your bath, return to this spot immediately and wait for me."

She nodded, looking around to make sure she'd be able to recognize it when she was finished. He leaned over, digging one hand deep in a saddlebag, and came out with a small paper-wrapped package, which he tossed at her feet. Leaning over again, he pulled out a blanket and passed it to her. "Stay warm, Mairwen," he said. "The water will be cold."

She nodded again as he continued. "I'm headed south to The Sepulcher, the Forsaken town in these parts. They'll have a clothing merchant."

She swallowed. "How… how far is it?"

He patted Echo's neck, causing the horse to stretch in bliss. "Now that you're safe and I don't need to pace myself for your sake… a couple of hours, if I push Echo a bit." The horse snorted, as if he could understand the words and didn't care for them. "Another hour spent there, another two to three back… don't look for me any sooner than until early afternoon."

The sun was starting to tint the far sky pink, and she swallowed at the thought of such a long day fending for herself. Immediately, she felt ashamed… he'd done so much for her already, and was now doing even more. She could be brave for one day before he got back.

He turned Echo and looked over his shoulder as they moved out of the clearing. "Be safe!" he commanded, his expression stern. Half-heartedly, she raised a hand to wave, but he was gone, the sound of Echo's gallop quickly fading, leaving her in silence.

Leaving her alone.

She took a deep breath, wrapping her arms around herself and looking around. Suddenly, leaving the clearing for her bath was intimidating to her. To distract herself, she bent, picking up the package at her feet and untying the twine that bound it.

She smiled when she opened it. Nestled beside 3 mana biscuits was a bar of soap. Its smell was sharp and clean, and she lifted it to her nose, inhaling deeply. It was the first truly clean scent she's smelled in months, and it almost made her dizzy at the thought that soon, she'd smell just as clean.

That is, if she could muster the courage to leave the clearing without an escort.

"I don't know why I'm wishing he was here," she muttered, turning and stalking towards the sound of the creek before she could stop herself. "It's not like I'd let him watch me bathe."

The creek, blessedly, was closer than she'd thought, and she found it within minutes. It made a pretty picture, she had to admit, bubbling through the forest. There were ferns growing on both banks, and once she'd sank, shivering, into the water, the foliage on either bank created an almost private alcove.

He'd been right, she thought through chattering teeth. The water was cold. However, it was also moving swiftly and was the perfect depth for her bath… sitting in the center of the creek, the water came to just below her breasts.

She'd carefully left her tattered clothing on the bank, but it wasn't long into her bath before she realized the last thing she'd want to do once she was done would be to drag them back on again. Grateful that he'd left a blanket, she went to work.

It was the most thorough bath she's ever had in her life. She scrubbed grime & dirt from every inch of her skin, soaping up twice to make sure she was clean. Her skin squeaked when she ran a finger over it, and satisfied that her body was finally clean, she turned her attention to her hair.

It was atrocious, she realized with dismay. Long and lank, it was heavily matted and clotted together with dirt, grease, blood and the light only knew what else. Bracing herself for the shock, she leaned forward between her crossed legs and dunked her head.

Washing her hair took her close to an hour. The first three times she tried to get a lather from the soap, it stubbornly refused, the filth in her hair easily resisting her attempts to budge it. Finally, though, she was overjoyed to feel the soap finally penetrate the dirt on her scalp, and she scrubbed almost violently.

With every lather & rinse, she felt more like a human and less like a lab rat. And when she was finally finished, she could have wept in relief.

Leaning over, she braced her hands on the bank and got her feet under her, standing slowly. She didn't get halfway to her feet, however, before her legs gave out and she pitched forward into the ferns, her legs trembling from the cold and the effort. She laid her forehead to the ground briefly as she gathered her strength, torn between laughing and cursing, and then she hauled herself bodily up onto the bank.

She lay on her back for a few minutes, looking up into the milky blue sky of the morning. The sun had yet to penetrate the trees, but the temperature was going up quickly, and she soon found herself warm enough to make another attempt at standing.

This time, she was successful, though she felt like a new colt, trying out her legs for the first time. She stumbled to the blanket and used one corner to towel-dry her hair, and then wrapped herself in it from neck to toe, returning to the clearing to start her long vigil.

Jehann rode Echo mercilessly, and was grateful that the horse didn't complain. Now that he was on his own, he felt a sense of urgency to return to her, and had to force himself not to entertain terrible images of what may befall her, alone and weakened in the woods. A wild animal coming across an easy meal… a member of the Horde, finding a weakened human female & seeing only the opportunity for some sport… a travelling band of Alliance, who might take her with them, give her aid.

He was shamed when he realized the third option was as horrifying to him as the first 2. However, he was brutally honest with himself… despite her terrible reasons for being in his company, he wasn't quite ready for her to leave it so soon.

He reached the village known as the Sepulcher in good time, and hoped as he rode through the gate that he'd arrived ahead of any potential search parties or, now that he thought of it, assassins.

His reception was warm, however, as if he were an ordinary traveler, and he looked around, centering himself. He hadn't been here in years. The Sepulcher was in reality a large graveyard… his people had seen the advantage of having a base in this area, and someone had obviously found it an irony to set up base with the dead. As distasteful as Jehann found the idea, he could find no fault with their amenities… within minutes, he was fairly certain they'd be able to provide him with everything he needed.

He offered no conversation, and no one sought it this morning. Visiting the clothier first, he purchased an entire set of cloth armour, knowing she didn't have the strength to wear anything heavier. The cloth armour was padded & reinforced, and would provide her with warmth as well as some additional security. He also purchased a long cloak of grey wool… they were travelling at night, and the nights here were chilly. He bought her real food, as well as a light sword for when she felt strong enough to wield it.

In total, he spent a little over an hour in the village, letting Echo graze at the stables and regain his strength. While he was there, he had his own armour repaired… travelling through the forest had seen it ripped in several places. Resettling his shoulder pads back onto his shoulders, he retrieved Echo and headed out the way he'd come, eager to get back to her and reassure himself that she was safe.

Lost in thought, he led Echo by the reins through the village towards the gates, thinking over his purchases & making sure he hadn't forgotten anything she may need, when he felt a hand on his elbow. Startled, his head whipped to the right & he met the golden glow of the eyes of a cloaked and cowled Forsaken.

He frowned lightly. "Can I help you?"

The other man leaned closer, the cowl of his robes falling back far enough for Jehann to see his face, and he took a sharp breath.

It was the young priest from the Undercity, the same man who'd taken it upon himself to point out Mairwen's plight. Jehann hadn't given him a second thought since they'd parted, and now, thinking back on the events that had transpired since, he wondered if he owed the man a debt of gratitude… or a punch to the face.

Deciding he liked the thought of the latter better, he was about to repeat himself when the other man spoke, his voice soft. "Forgive the intrusion, sir. I was hoping you'd indulge me for a few moments."

Jehann glanced around, looking for reinforcements. "That depends," he said smoothly. "Are you here to apprehend me, sir priest?"

Genuine shock crossed the younger man's face and then he chuckled, waving his hand dismissively. "Of course not." Puzzled, he tilted his head and looked up at the older man. "Why would you think that?"

Jehann started walking again, resigned when he saw the other man fall into step beside him. "Because I assume I'm a fugitive from justice by now."

To his shock, the younger man's face lit up and a grin, so rare among his people that it looked strange on the young man's face, broke across his lips. In short, the man looked delighted, and said, "Then I assume the young lady who was asking for you is, indeed, an acquaintance?"

"You assume correct," Jehann sighed, then glanced at the younger man, stern. "And again, I advise you to forget you ever talked to me. I doubt if the Royal Guard would look kindly on you abetting me."

The young man waved that away as well. "Fear not, Frostheart. No one is dogging your steps." He nodded when Jehann shot him an incredulous look. "I speak the truth, sir. Keever was apparently in a rage when he arrived the next morning… I wasn't there, but his rages are well known and I heard about it. However," he continued, "None of the Apothecaries working that morning had been there the entire night… and so none of them could say what had happened to his subject." His eyes danced, relishing the other man's no doubt formidable tantrum, and reluctantly, Jehann felt one corner of his mouth twitch. The younger man finished, "As it happened, I was only ever in the Undercity on business. My post is here, at the Sepulcher, and I just happened to notice you as you retrieved your steed."

Jehann, more relaxed now, shook his head. "And you obviously want something from me, young priest… as much as your story eases my apprehension, you didn't flag me down simply to have a chat." He shot the younger man a look. "Out with it, before I continue on my way."

The other man blinked and ran a hand over his bald head, his white robes shifting as he moved from foot to foot, uncomfortable. "Forgive me, sir… I only wished to inquire about the lady's health."

At Jehann's look of disbelief, the young man rushed on. "Truly, sir, that is my only motivation for stopping you. She…" he paused. "…she displayed a formidable spirit for one so ill, so beaten. When I heard that Keever was enraged at the disappearance of a human subject, I knew that should I get the chance, I would like to know how she fared beyond my aid that night." His eyes were intent as he searched Jehann's face. "Has she begun to recover, sir?"

Jehann paused, truly torn. He could afford to trust no one with her location… it was bad enough that this naïve, idealistic young priest knew she was with him at all. On the other hand, he had right now a man capable of, at the very least, assessing her health… and if he didn't possess the ability to restore her to health, then it was possible that, as a priest, he had connections to those who may.

He sighed deeply. "I am unsure," he said honestly, and the priest nodded, silently urging him to continue. "I am a mage, not a healer. I have done all I can think of to aid her in her recovery, but she is badly malnourished and her mind has been traumatized. I find it difficult to assess her health."

The priest nodded again, more slowly this time, his eyes narrowed in thought. Before he could think better of it, he spoke. "Then perhaps it would be wise, sir, for me to assess her again. It's possible that, in the proper light and without Keever breathing down my neck, I may be of more use than I was before."

Jehann blinked, bringing Echo to a halt at the town gates and facing the man fully. Suspicion and disbelief warred equally for dominance of his face, and he said bluntly, "I find this level of compassion hard to believe, priest. Our kind is not known for their tendency to aid enemies of war."

The priest nodded, agreeing. "Agreed, sir. And to be honest, it is simple curiosity that drives me." His lips curved in a sly smile, and he went on. "Not to mention the fact that having Jehann Frostheart owe me a debt has a way of blinding me temporarily to any racial prejudices I may hold."

This, Jehann could understand, and he met the men's honesty with his own. "Very well, then. Do this for me, and consider me in your debt."

As the man's face broke into a smile, Jehann leaned forward, grabbing the younger man's robes and pulling him forward. "Be aware, however," he growled, "that should you decide later to share this tale with anyone, I will personally hunt you down and light a fire inside you the likes of which you've never imagined." His eyes narrow, he released the younger man and stepped back, nodding. "Now, if we're clear on your discretion, let's be on our way."

The younger man nodded shakily, suddenly and belatedly remembering that he was horridly intimidated by the mage, and stuttered, "O-of course, sir. My discretion is assured."

Jehann swung up onto Echo and reached down, pulling the priest up behind him. As they set out at a gallop, the priest leaned forward. "For simplicity's sake, sir, I'm known as Patrick. Patrick Derringer."

Jehann nodded. "Well then, Patrick, we have a couple of hours ahead of us. Get comfortable."

Patrick nodded, reaching behind him & gripping the saddle for support as he looked around. A fairly young Forsaken, he'd been liberated for less then 2 years, and had yet to purchase a mount for himself. Deciding it definitely beat walking, he started making mental plans to start budgeting for a horse as the mage, not sure how he should be feeling about this new development, fell into a grim silence.

As they traveled, worry for her once again bloomed inside Jehann and he shifted, wishing he could urge Echo to an even faster pace. He'd been away from her for hours, and as each minute passed his worry grew… once again, images of all of the dangers he'd left her alone to face herself started sliding through his mind, making him wince.

Ironically, he found refuge in memory willingly this time around, and his mouth curved slightly as he remembered the move to Tarren Mill… and the first of many times he'd managed to make a fool of himself when she was around. She brought that out in him, he remembered, and with a smile, he filtered back through the years until he found the memory he was looking for.


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

8 Years Ago

Himotep leaned against the doorjamb, regarding his friend with shock. "You're what!"

Jehann glanced at him in the barber's mirror, his head tilted forward as the goblin efficiently worked on his hair. "I'm taking a post at Tarren Mill."

Himotep was speechless, a state that rarely afflicted him. Thankfully, it passed quickly. "But… why! This is extremely out of character for you!"

Jehann shrugged, causing the goblin barber to make an impatient noise in his throat and pull perhaps harder than was necessary on a lock of hair. Wincing, Jehann looked again to his friend. "You of all people know how I feel about this city." He wrinkled his nose almost delicately. "As one of the apparently few Forsaken who can still analyze scent accurately, the thought of working in the mountains appeals to me. Besides," he said, "the mage trainers in Tarren Mill are just as capable of training me in my studies as those here in the city." He shrugged again, more carefully this time. "I need to get out from inside these stinking walls, Himotep."

His friend shook his head. "And you're… you're at the barber shop, Jehann. Being GROOMED."

At this, his friend chuckled. "It was about time, don't you think? I may be dead, but I don't have to look as if I'm so comfortable with it. I'm being recruited to fight for our Queen… I should look like more than just a shambling corpse. It's time I stopped resembling a Scourge ghoul."

At this, the till-now silent barber made a noise in his throat, agreeing, and stepped back. "What do you think?"

Jehann lifted his head and regarded his reflection, turning his head to one side, then the other. He was startled… his hair, long and dusky black, had been washed and the tangles combed out of it. The barber had trimmed the worst of the damage from the ends and had bound it on either side of his neck in two plaits that now rested on his chest. The look was tidy and neat and oddly reminiscent of his look when he'd been alive… he'd worn his hair long, always, and had bound it in a similar fashion. He met the goblin's eyes in the mirror and nodded.

The goblin, satisfied with his work, turned to the counter & lifted two strips of studded leather for Jehann's inspection. "Do these meet with your approval?"

Jehann reached up and took one of the straps, testing the weight, before handing it back. "They do."

Himotep's eyes widened as he saw the barber start binding his friend's face with one of the leather straps. "Why are you wearing straps?"

Jehann shrugged. This, he knew, was a vanity, and he was slightly embarrassed at it. He pointed to his left eye, still uncovered, and said "I've always wished to cover this up. Since this is likely the only time I'll bother to visit a barber shop, I thought I'd best do it now."

His left eye socket had been damaged, either during his death or during his time as a slave, and the outer edge was crushed, giving that eye a lopsided, asymmetrical look. Himotep lifted a brow… he'd barely even noticed the small flaw, and found it almost laughable that his friend, who he'd thought he knew so well, was no displaying this level of vanity. "…If you say so, friend."

He was at a loss, not sure what to make of the news that his friend was relocating. To the best of his knowledge about the young mage, it was a move that was quite out of character, and something about it disturbed the older warlock. He wracked his brain, trying to decide what attraction Tarren Mill offered that would be important enough to not only move far, but to clean up his appearance for.

Startled, his breath sucked in as he straightened away from the doorjamb, staring at his friend's reflection as the first strap was fixed in place. "Oh, Jehann." His voice was filled with horror and disbelief. "It's that damn woman, isn't it? She's the reason you're… you're letting this barber groom you! The reason you're leaving!"

To his credit, Jehann didn't immediately wither under his friend's stare. Instead, he met his friend's eyes and said calmly, "Yes and no. Tarren Mill truly can offer me chances to grow that can't be had here. But yes," he admitted reluctantly, "the chance to see her again also gives me the chance to figure out what it is about her that I'm drawn to. If I don't figure that out, I may go mad." His lips curving slightly, he tilted his head to allow the goblin access to the other side of his head.

He was watching the barber's progress and so was startled when Himotep's hand fell to his shoulder. Ignoring the goblin's filthy look & his attempts to shoo him off, Himotep leaned down and, very softly, spoke in Gutterspeak, the Forsaken language, a language unique only to the Forsaken themselves. "If you seek her out," he said firmly, "you will have only yourself to blame for what follows."

Jehann sighed as the goblin finished his work and looked to Himotep. "And if I don't seek her out," he said just as firmly, "then I will regret it for the rest of my life."

Himotep made a frustrated noise in his throat and straightened. Nodding to the barber, Jehann absently handed him a small bag of coins and walked out without his change, his troubled friend beside him. "Come now, my friend… whatever happens on the long run can only affect me, not you." Jehann, reaching up and feeling the new additions to his face, continued when his friend didn't answer. "I appreciate everything you've done for me, Himotep. All of the guidance and friendship has been invaluable to me. However, it's time I branch out and start discovering the world for myself." He paused, and laid a hand to his friend's shoulder. "Even if you see it as a mistake, it's mine to make."

Himotep sighed mightily, rolling his eyes and shooting his friend a look. "Well… the trip to the barber shop certainly improved matters, anyway." His eyes narrowed slightly and he couldn't resist a barb. "Unfortunately, it's still obvious that you're DEAD… but maybe she'll look past that."

Jehann snorted. "Has it occurred to you that there's a very real possibility that I need to kill her in order to be free of this torment?"

Himotep paused, quietly startled. He'd never thought of his friend as a man able to easily dispose of life, and he tilted his head. "No. It hadn't."

Jehann lifted a shoulder. "I'm doubtful if I could do it, of course… but you need to understand that the bottom line of this trip is the fact that I simply don't know HOW to break free." His eyes, now partially obscured by his new leather straps, were still naked when they met his friend's, and Himotep sighed at the haunted look his friend had been sporting for a month.

He gave in, his anger wilting in light of his friend's unhappiness. Jehann pressed his advantage and continued tentatively. "You told me, when this all began, that you would give no advice… but that you also wouldn't judge me for whatever choices I made." He stopped, forcing Himotep to face him. "I would like to know I'm leaving you behind as a friend."

Sighing, Himotep slumped, defeated. "Of course."

Jehann nodded, relieved. "It's good to hear that. You are the only true friend I have, Himotep. It would pain me greatly to lose that."

Himotep shifted, uncomfortable with the emotional nature of the topic, and nodded abruptly. "Then put your mind at ease, you young fool," he said, "and stay in touch. I will be… curious."

Jehann nodded, smiling faintly. "Of course." He paused, then made 2 fists, crossing his arms sharply over his chest and resting each fist on the opposite shoulder, saluting his friend. "Walk carefully, my friend."

Himotep, amused now, returned the salute. "I believe it's you who needs that advice more than I." He smiled faintly. "Good luck with your… training," he finished dryly, and Jehann chuckled, touching his brow in a second salute as he turned away, disappearing in the crowd, returning to his quarters.

Himotep watched him go, his heart heavy, and sighed silently, sending his friend all the luck he could, before he, too, turned and vanished.

Jehann saw little reason to delay his departure, now that he'd broken the news to Himotep, and so he set out that evening. He was on the back of his very own horse, a fact that had brought him great pride for about ten minutes… it was at that point that he'd realized that there was a reason this mount had been so startlingly affordable. The poor thing was as undead as every other steed used by the Forsaken, but he was slow and quick to tire. Jehann sighed when he mentally calculated the length of time it would take him to ride from the Undercity to Tarren Mill and was grimly determined to start work immediately upon arriving on being able to afford his true goal: one of the proud, glorious Forsaken Warhorses. They cost far more than the standard steeds, but Darthalia had indicated she'd be willing to pay for whatever work Jehann was willing to do… perhaps he could have the funds in the next couple of months.

The thought cheering him, he made the trip in good spirits, if not good time… getting lost twice didn't help, he supposed, but he was still greatly relieved 5 days later when he walked his weary steed down the dirt road leading to the village.

Tarren Mill was, indeed, out in the fresh air… it was small but compact, and the crowd surprised him. People of all races of the Horde milled about, doing business, reporting for duty, stabling their mounts, procuring supplies. A bit intimidated, Jehann found the stables & immediately set out to look for High Executor Darthalia.

She was easy to find… the bulk of the crowd was flocking near her, waiting their turn. Jehann fell into place at the end of the line & looked around, taking in the sights.

To the south, beyond a broad field in which Forsaken farmhands worked, was the town of Southshore, he knew. The only Alliance base in the province, it was no doubt as busy & as efficient as Tarren Mill was for the Horde, and the fact that it was no doubt hours away did nothing to quell Jehann's curiosity. He wondered if he'd ever get the chance to see it up close. The west was the direction from which he'd come, and he was painfully familiar with the terrain in that direction, having traveled over it for the past 5 days. Somewhere to the east was the province of Arathi, an area he had little knowledge of and less interest… the only stories he'd ever heard about the Arathi Highlands were of the terrible raptors that made the Highlands their home. While this may appeal to a troll, whose race tamed the beasts for mounts, to Jehann, it was simply a very good reason to steer clear.

Reptiles gave him the shivers, if he were to be honest with himself. Big reptiles that looked at him as if he were already dressed out on a spit made him downright nervous. No, better to avoid the Highlands, at least until he was strong enough to stand a chance of walking away should he encounter one of the beasts.

It was to the north that his eyes were drawn. Hulking and solid, the Alterac Mountains loomed on the horizon, their tips snow-capped, the breeze carrying the gentle scent of snow and the chill bite of frost. He breathed deep, knowing that somewhere on the other side, beyond the snow and frost, was the Lordamere Lake. The Undercity was perched on one shore… on the opposite sat Alterac, and Mairwen's home. The lake was so huge that neither could be seen from one side or the other, especially when one remembered the smattering of islands between the shores, but it made no difference… he'd made great strides in only a few short days, and it was jarring to remember that he was now across the lake from his home city, in a place he'd never been before.

He was lost in thought, staring blankly at the mountains, when he reached the front of the line. A Forsaken woman, imposing & all business, barked "State your name, mage, and be quick about it."

Jumping, Jehann turned to her and realized he was next in line. Startled, he said "Frostheart… Jehann Frostheart."

She nodded, glancing at a list in her hand and making a note by what he assumed was his name. "Yes, I remember. I got your reply promptly, if I recall." She nodded again, warming slightly. "Allow me to welcome you to Tarren Mill on behalf of the Deathguards, and on behalf of Sylvanas. I'm sure you'll do good work for us."

Jehann nodded deeply. "I certainly intend to try, ma'am."

She pointed him in the direction of the inn, easily the largest building in the village, and he stabled his poor horse before reserving a room.

Climbing the stairs, he was forced to move out of the way as 2 Orcs passed him halfway up, their plate boots making the wooden steps quiver. He felt intimidated by the obviously seasoned adventurers he was seeing here in Tarren Mill, and suddenly wondered if he'd made a mistake. Glumly, he continued up to his room with his trunk, finding his door tucked at the end of the hall. Opening it, he entered and set his trunk at his feet, scanning the small space.

He found it satisfactory… a small bed, a table & chair, and an armoire, currently empty, were all that the room held. It did have, however, a rug covering the rough wooden floor, and a small window. He moved forward and looked down at the view… his room being at the rear of the inn, his window looked down on the nearby river. It ran north to south, and he remembered from the research he'd done prior to leaving that if he followed its current long enough, it would take him right past Southshore before it emptied into the ocean.

The window stood open, and he breathed deep, smelling the deep loam of the soil and realizing that there was no smell of mould here, no sense of decay. The Foothills were lush and green, fed by mountain springs that traveled through on their way south from the peaks of the Alterac mountains. Pine and elm, maple and oak all vied for the sun's rays, and unlike the thin, watery sun of the Tirisfal Glades, the sun here was strong and steady. He realized yet another new truth: he was going to have to get accustomed to the direct sun again. Not since he was alive had he been comfortable in full sunlight, its rays having a tendency to make his eyes sore.

By the looks of it, he'd have more than ample opportunity to get used to the sun again.

With a final look around his rooms, he left, locking the door behind him and pocketing the iron key before heading out to explore his new habitat and find out just what would be expected of him while he was here.

To his surprise, Jehann fell into an easy routine. His people had little interest in keeping tabs on him, and if he took a week to complete a task, they didn't mention it when he reported back… they simply nodded and dropped some coin in his hand in exchange. It took him 2 weeks of heading out day after day, culling the vicious wildlife around the town & gathering reagents, as well as making deliveries for the local Apothecaries, before he realized that his own people's lack of attention to his actions spelled a whole new sense of freedom for him, and for the first time since he'd arrived here in the Foothills, he cast his eyes north. To the peaks of the mountains called to him and he found himself daydreaming more often than not as he staed at those peaks, speculating on what lay beyond them.

Once the thought returned, it was persistent, and a few days later he had the chance to ask a local Deathguard about the winding road that led through the Alterac Mountains.

The man in question, a seasoned Deathguard named Humbert, squinted and followed Jehann's gaze to the North. "Never been through the pass, eh? Well, you're not missing much… not much through there except the occasional ogre." He returned his eyes to Jehann's. "The old human kingdom of Alterac was left abandoned after Arthas swept through, years ago… in their stead, the ogres of the mountains have moved into the ruins. Steer clear of those ruins, boy, and if you feel the need to travel along the pass, keep your eyes peeled. Ogres are nothing to sneeze at."

Jehann nodded, leaning against a fencepost beside Humbert & regarding him. "And beyond the ruins?"

Humbert shrugged. "Not much, 'cept the lake, of course. The Syndicate has a small cluster of camps through the valley beyond the mountains, but other than that, not much. A human settlement here and there, but they stick to themselves."

Jehann nodded again, turning this information over. Since he'd been here, he'd heard plenty about The Syndicate. They were a rebel band of humans, dedicated to opposing not only the current political leanings among their people but also to expanding their territory and power. Their group had seen a huge increase in followers from all human nations, and had grown from a nuisance to a real concern for the people working in Tarren Mill. The humans among the Syndicate saw conquest as their patriotic duty, and their goal was to eventually seize enough land to have a kingdom of their own.

Well, there was only one way to seize land, and there had been several raids on Tarren Mill as the Syndicate strove to not only usurp the Tarren Mill Forsaken, but the Southshore humans as well. Both factions battled them separately, each faction secretly hoping that the Syndicate & the other faction would simply destroy each other and make life easier, but it hadn't happened yet.

Humbert glanced at him, seeing the younger man's eyes fixed on the northern horizon, lost in thought. He smiled. "Got an itch to see what's over the skyline, eh?"

Jehann blinked and shrugged, faintly embarrassed. "Maybe. I've never been this far from the Undercity before."

Humbert nodded. "Expanding your horizons is always a good thing, young Jehann. But there's only one true way to do it." Leaning forward, he grinned. "You gotta get off your haunches and meet that horizon yourself, boy. Staring at it won't bring it any closer."

Jehann smiled in surprise. The old warrior had always struck him as a bitter, husky man with little time for frivolities… he was pleasantly surprised to see evidence to the contrary.

Maybe it was the fact that Jehann had, a few days ago, stolen back Humbert's sword from a small group of dwarves who had taken much delight in liberating it from him. The beloved weapon now hung at Humbert's side and no doubt had much to do with the man's genial attitude towards the young mage.

Jehann straightened, rolling his shoulders & stretching in the morning light. "Sound advice… I think I'll take you up on it."

Humbert nodded, absently laying a withered hand to the hilt of his sword. "You do that. And when you return, I'm sure we'll have more work for you. For now… I'd say you've earned a day off." He waved the younger man off and watched him head towards the stable, retrieving his rickety horse. Laying his hand once more to his favourite sword, he felt a rush of pleasure at the familiar weight hanging on his hip yet again, and glanced once more at the mage as the young man rode out of sight.

Jehann, within minutes, was filled with a rush of excitement that made even his horse seem just about perfect. He was heading away from Tarren Mill, the only area in this province he was truly familiar with, and that knowledge made him even forget Mairwen for the time being… simply exploring was enough for him, and for the first time since he'd been liberated, he truly felt free. In the Undercity, he'd been delegated to doing menial jobs within the city walls… delivering sets of goods from one vendor to another, doing research among dusty tomes as dry in content as they were in reality, etc. This, this setting out to explore, was completely new to him, and his glowing eyes were wide as he guided his horse onto the road that led north.

A few hours later, however, had him re-evaluating his initial assessment. The road through the mountains was now a steep incline, and not only was his horse complaining about the inconvenience, but Jehann was immensely bored. He'd recently passed an old signpost telling him that the kingdom of Alterac lay to his east, but he'd carefully (and wisely) picked his way past the winding path that led away from the main road. He only needed to be warned about ogres once... a fight with even one of the hulking humanoids would be his last, he knew. He'd grown in strength & ability, that was without doubt… however, he hadn't grown nearly enough to want to test his luck against a man-mountain that not only stood over 9 feet tall, but carried clubs as big as tree trunks.

No, thanks.

So on he went, urging his horse to keep going… far above him, he could see the point where the road must at least level off, if not start the descent down the other side. He'd passed several travelers, all of them far more seasoned than himself, and had made sure to ask several of them how the road fared ahead. Most answered him politely and continued on their way… however, in the early afternoon, he had an encounter with a female Troll who reacted with horror that he was heading over the mountain. Later, he'd remember her as an interesting character… now, having never really had any experience with Trolls, she fairly terrified him in her exuberance and raw energy,

Her vivid purple hair pulled relentlessly back from her face in a cascade of braids, she shook her head, her small tusks curling gently over her top lip, her jade eyes wide. "By da light, mon, ya can't be meanin' to continue! And in your pitiful armor no less!"

He would have been offended if the much older woman hadn't apparently been so concerned for him. He lifted a shoulder, allowing his horse to rest. "I assure you, madam, I'm sufficiently equipped to defend myself." He drew himself up proudly. "Being a mage, I have weapons at my disposal that need not hang on my belt in plain sight."

She wasn't impressed. "Bah! Ya mages are all alike, y'are… dinkin' dat ya be invincible! Turn back, little wizard, an' make da trip when ya be sufficiently equipped ta not on'y defend yaself, but to sufficiently leave a few smokin' bodies in ya wake."

He sighed. Trolls, again, were a race he had little dealing with, and he not only had a hard time deciphering her island accent, but once he had, he realized her words were starting to make him uneasy. He hadn't traveled this far, however, to turn now… he wasn't about to give his horse that satisfaction… and so he saluted her and said "I thank you for the warning and the advice, madam, but I'm afraid I have business on the other side of the pass that cannot wait."

This was a lie, but one he hoped she'd accept. He was relieved when her eyes turned from the astonished that they'd been to worried, understanding that her warnings were falling on deaf ears, and she guided her riding raptor to one side. "Travel safely, den, and should we eva meet again, I be buyin' ya a round ta celebrate ya astonishing good health." With a broad wink and a wide grin, she gave a sharp command in her native language, causing the turquoise raptor to straighten from where he was sniffing the ground & take off, headed towards Tarren Mill. Jehann watched her go, shaking his head faintly, before he turned back to the road ahead and continued on his way.

The only other travelers Jehann saw that afternoon were a pair of Alliance citizens. With interest, he saw the 2 females crest the hill ahead of him and knew the instant they'd spotted him… they immediately guided their mounts closer together and ceased their conversation. As they approached, he took the opportunity to study them… one was a human, and a mage like himself he was willing to guess. She wore fine robes of lavender silk and had a long wooden staff strapped to her back, in the same fashion as his own. Her companion was a Night Elf, and while the human dropped her eyes as they passed, the elf threw her long white braid over her shoulder and levelled him with a cool stare. She wore heavy armor and had a huge sword strapped to her back, and since they were obviously more seasoned than himself, he bowed his head in respect and said nothing as they passed.

That was the excitement of his day, and as the sun started to sink in the west, he was startled when he crested a small rise on his way down the other side of the mountain and saw what could only be the Lordamere Lake spread out before him. His lips curved softly as he looked down on it, realizing that although he would require a camp for the night, he'd managed to make the trip to the lake without getting himself killed.

It was the sight of the lake that had him remembering, for the first time in a few hours, that the paladin's home was allegedly somewhere on this shore of the lake. His breath catching, he immediately scanned what little he could see of the shoreline, but saw no homes, only empty terrain. The actual shore couldn't be seen from here, concealed by the thick trees.

Undaunted, he clucked at his steed and continued down the road towards the distant shore of the lake.

By the time he reached the bottom of the mountain, however, the sun had sank beneath the horizon & the sky was darkening. With resignation, he left the road & started picking his way through the darkening forest, heading towards the lake and looking for a suitable spot to make camp. By now, the lake was close enough that he could smell the familiar brassy scent… it apparently smelled the same on this side as it did on the other. The only difference he could see was that on this side, the shoreline was lush and healthy. On the other, the vegetation struggled to breathe, choked out by fumes and poisonous dust that still lingered in the wake of Arthas' initial assault on his own kingdom. The land, in short, had never recovered, and wept still.

Jehann settled in a small clearing, tethering his horse, which he still hadn't bothered to name, to a nearby alder tree. Unpacking a thin mat, he unrolled it on the ground and lowered himself to it, quickly lighting a small fire for light as much as for warmth… the Forsaken had little need to fear freezing to death.

As his horse dozed, Jehann stared into the flames of his small fire, absently conjuring a small loaf of bread. Wincing, he eyed the blackened surface, and could only hope it was cooked properly on the inside… if there was one area of his magic that needed improvement, it was definitely his conjured bread.

He had struggled through about half of the bread and was about to give up in disgust when he heard an indistinct sound from far off, towards the shore. Swallowing with effort, he sat up straighter and tensed, listening. He reached out slowly and gripped his staff where it lay on the ground beside him, rising slowly as he tried to identify the sound.

He glanced to his horse to see if it sensed a threat. The undead steed, ears perked forward, seemed only curious, and Jehann relaxed before he extinguished the fire & slowly made his way towards the sound, moving as silently as a shadow.

He traveled for about 5 minutes, the soft sound beckoning him like a siren's call, before he crested a small rise and gasped softly, throwing himself behind the large maple tree beside him. Then, carefully, he peeked around the trunk at the scene below him.

About 7 feet high, the drop-off spilled out into a tiny cultivated plot of land. On it sat a small house, a cottage really, white with a red-shingled roof. In front of the house, barely visible, was a small dock that jutted out into the lake, and a small wooden boat rocked gently beside it. At the end of the dock, on either side, were 2 wooden posts, and each was topped with a black iron lantern, casting flickering lamplight back to the house, making the water look black.

To the left of the house was a small vegetable and flower garden, and on the right was a hitching post. There was a horse hitched to it, its head hung low, asleep. Its tether was long enough to reach to the nearby stable, and Jehann supposed if it rained, the beast could take shelter without the master having to come out himself and lead him there.

The sound he'd been hearing was evident as a woman shifted among the rows of vegetables and herbs, singing to herself in Common as she placed vegetables in a basket.

Jehann's vision narrowed and his chest constricted. Unable to decide if it was luck or folly, he was stunned to realize he'd just stumbled over the paladin who'd saved his life a matter of months ago.

She looked… different, he noted, watching her kneel… but then again, her armour was obviously stashed inside, and she looked far softer without it. She was facing him, but her head was bowed and he'd been quiet in his approach… she had no reason to suspect she wasn't alone. Feeling a bit like he was violating her, he nonetheless took the opportunity to study her.

Her hair was unbound, a thick sheet that he knew was a deep gold. Around her head was a thin silver circlet, certainly offering her no armor or protection… obviously it was simply for adornment. Instead of her black plate armour, she wore a simple dress of white and blue, and from his vantage point, it appeared to be made of fine cotton or linen. The sleeves were long, hugging her upper arms and then flaring out at the elbow to fall to her wrist… the hem brushed her toes. Her bare toes, he was startled to see.

Somehow, the fact that she wore no shoes made her suddenly real to him, and he suddenly wondered what the hell he was doing… he couldn't afford to forget that she had a war hammer stashed somewhere in that cottage, and she wielded it well. Nor could he afford to forget that to her, he was no more than a Forsaken to be exterminated… and if she caught him spying, well, he might as well kiss this existence goodbye, because he was suddenly very afraid that she wouldn't hesitate.

He was suddenly, very belatedly, aware that perhaps this hadn't been the wisest course of action. Himotep had been downright worried for him when he'd learned he was relocating, and for the first time, Jehann could perhaps understand why. The woman in front of him, the same woman who had once clasped his hand in friendship, had undoubtedly, upon leaving him that day, gone immediately back to being his enemy.

He had no reason to think that had changed in the 2 months that had passed since they'd met.

Suddenly afraid, and remembering just how much more seasoned she was when it came to combat, he took a step back… and then another, preparing to turn & return to camp.

He ran into something warm and solid and jumped a mile, yelping. As he whipped around to face this new threat, he stumbled over what he assumed was a stray tree root and with a sick feeling in his stomach, realized he was about to pitch backwards into her garden.

He was making an awful racket, he knew… with a terrible crash, he burst out of the brush at the top of the incline. Her head jerked up in shock and alarm and she stood, reaching out and taking up the war hammer that had been laying, concealed in the grass, at her hip, and raised it, ready to pummel whoever was foolish enough to breach her space.

With true shock, she saw a man, tall and thin, fall out of the woods, his arms pin-wheeling desperately as he fought a losing battle to regain his balance… and with a sick thud and a sharp "Oof!", he finally came to rest on his side, groaning.

Right on top of her tomatoes, she thought, and her eyes narrowed. The lantern she'd hung in the window to light her way as she gardened did little to illuminate the man who was now shifting his weight, preparing to rise, and before he could gain his feet, she stopped in front of him and rested the massive head of her mithril war hammer against the back of his head.

"Give me one good reason not to bash your head in," she said tightly in Common. He froze, then slowly lifted his hands in submission.

At the very moment she realized he had the wasted hands of a Forsaken, he spoke in Orcish. "I mean you no harm." Slowly, he lifted his head and she frowned, switching to Orcish. "And what is a Forsaken mage doing in the Alterac Mountains? Spying on my garden, of all things?"

When he cast his eyes away, she replaced the hammer at his head and narrowed her eyes further. "Speak, mage."

He sighed heavily, giving in and telling the truth. "I've changed my appearance a bit since we met," he said, "but I'm the man who you saved from a pack of worgen over 2 months ago."

Frowning, she thought back, and then bent slightly, studying his features intently.

With shock, she realized he spoke the truth. Before she spoke, however, she lifted her eyes to the small cliff overlooking her home, movement catching her eye.

Jehann followed her gaze and saw, with horror, what had snuck up behind him and caused him to fall bodily into her garden.

Her large cow was regarding them both with faint astonishment, chewing her cud absently. With shame, Jehann realized he'd been so intent on watching the woman in front of him he'd failed to hear the cow come up behind him… the resulting startle had sent him, literally, over the edge.

He glanced back to the woman and was startled to see her lowering the hammer. As her eyes darted from between him and the cow, she mentally figured out what must have happened, and before he knew it, she was laughing.

She threw her head back, laying a hand flat to her stomach and roaring her mirth to the sky. Without pausing, she reached down and offered him her hand. "F…forgive me, mage," she laughed, helping him to his feet. He was insulted, brushing off his robes stiffly, and this made her laugh harder. "I did not recognize you, what with the straps, and the hair, and the… c-cow…"

With the final word she laughed again, insulting him further by dropping the hammer. He was clearly no threat to her, he realized, and he huffed the air out from between clenched teeth, his irritation growing.

She finally looked to him and tilted her head. "John, wasn't it?"

He froze, his eyes widening. She'd forgotten his name? She'd forgotten his name! Anger swept through him at the thought that after the torture her image had put him through, he'd gone through all of this simply to find a woman who couldn't even be bothered to remember his name!

He drew himself up to his full height & looked down his nose at her, his expression disdainful. "Myrtle, wasn't it?"

With satisfaction, he saw her eyes narrow at his tone, and she sniffed. "Well there's no reason to be rude, sir mage… you are, after all, the one who fell into my garden, not to mention destroyed my tomatoes."

He held his hands up in surrender. "Agreed, agreed… I suppose I should be glad you didn't kill me outright." Gritting his teeth, he said, "The name's Jehann… MAIRWEN."

He was pacified a bit when her eyes lit up with recognition. "Yes, that's it! A fine name." Her eyes dancing, she bent and retrieved her hammer, causing him to tense before she rested it against the house. "So, Jehann," she said, turning back to him and folding her arms at her waist, "Mind telling me what brings you falling into my garden? You're not exactly safe here… the ogres and the Syndicate are all far stronger than you."

He shifted, unprepared to answer questions he himself hadn't been able to answer. "Falling into your garden was completely accidental," he muttered. This, at least, was the truth. "If your damn cow hadn't snuck up on me…"

She laughed again. "Jehann," she chuckled, "cows rarely sneak up on anyone." She tilted her head and considered him. "No, you were there for a reason."

He shrugged. "I heard a voice… when I followed it, I saw you, realized who you were, and was about to retreat back to camp when…. Well," he finished, "you know what happened then."

She was silent for a moment, regarding him. His robes were stained and torn, his hair a bit dishevelled, no doubt from his flight down onto her property, and his shoulders were pulled forward, unconsciously protecting himself. He was vulnerable, she realized, and felt her heart soften a bit.

Sighing, she made her choice, and knew the day would likely come when she'd regret it. Stepping back, she extended her hand back towards the cottage. "Come. If we have matters to discuss, we might as well discuss them inside."

He was startled at the invitation and found himself nodding his thanks before he knew it. Again, the small sane part of himself was firmly trying to turn him around, force him back to camp, but it was overruled by the part of him that was simply once again in awe of the fact that he was conversing with a human and they weren't trying to kill him. Like a man hypnotized, he followed her inside the warm cottage.


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Present Day

As Jehann and Patrick were awkwardly getting acquainted on their return trip, Mairwen woke from a light doze in the noon sun. Squinting slightly, she turned her head and stared at the sky, once again allowing herself to feel relief and amazement at her newfound freedom. The afternoon was warm and felt wonderful to her, the forest quiet, the breeze gentle as it lifted her hair, and for awhile, simply existing in this quiet perfection was enough for her as she lay limp on the ground.

Though she was still in poor condition, she felt more clear-headed this afternoon than she had since she'd been rescued, and she lifted a hand, bringing her sun-warmed hair to her nose and breathing deep. It smelled of soap and sunlight, and she thanked the Light for every small blessing in her life.

At this thought, Jehann's face drifted into her mind, and she acknowledged that truth: he was by far one of the greatest blessings of her life, especially now, especially after all he had done for her, was STILL doing for her. Her memories of their conversations thus far were foggy, but if she remembered correctly, he was apparently taking an immense risk by helping her.

Something about setting back the war effort? Yes, he'd said something along those lines, and now, as her mind finally rid itself of the cobwebs her captivity had caused, she started to fully understand what he'd meant.

Her eyes closed as worry & horror swept through her… and shame. This was all her fault. She should never have asked for him, should never have led him to believe he owed her anything. If she hadn't asked that healer to find him, his life would have continued normally, and her eventual passing would have never caused a ripple in his existence.

Instead, she seemed to have found the one Forsaken in the entire city that had a thread of his old humanity intact… or at least, intact enough to grant a dying woman her last request.

Perversely, she felt anger at the healer as well, though she knew it was only misdirected anger at herself. Jehann, from the day they'd met, so long ago, had been nothing if not smitten with her… to ask him for aid now seemed almost like using him, like exploiting the feelings she suspected he'd once had, the feelings she'd once shared.

Nevermind the fact that she could hardly be called "in her right mind" when the healer had been summoned… no, now that the guilt had surfaced, it was spreading like a stain across her entire mindset.

She sighed deeply, the sound aching with regret, and thought back to when she'd met the complicated, defensive mage she'd come to call her friend. Her eyes closing unconsciously, she remembered hearing the sounds of a struggle in the woods off to her left as she'd been hurrying through the Horde lands towards her own. She hadn't hesitated to leave the road to offer assistance to whoever it was struggling, and she hadn't hesitated when she realized he was Forsaken… nor had she hesitated to speak once the damn Worgen was at her feet.

No, she hadn't hesitated at any point… but perhaps she should have.

With resignation, she saw him again in her mind, that frail, rather pathetic figure huddling on the ground, and knew that there was no way she COULD have hesitated. His weakness, his obvious need of a champion, had called to her, and like a fool, she'd answered, risking her life and her allegiance to speak to the man as if he were one of her own. She'd always been tender hearted… in fact, when she related the tale only days later to her brother, he'd called her a bleeding heart… and in the spirit of reassuring this unknown young mage, she'd spoken to him in the Horde tongue.

He hadn't thought, at that point, to ask how she knew the language of the Horde… no, his shock at their meeting was too great for such small questions to rise. The encounter, as entertaining and satisfying as it had been, was generally unremarkable until she'd clasped his hand in hers.

She remembered his shock, his sharp intake of breath, as her strong fingers wrapped carefully around his own, and she'd felt her heart wince in sadness that such a simple act of kindness would be foreign to him now… but she'd also felt a connection to him, try as she might to deny it. He spoke to her on many levels… pity, admiration for his courage in battle, appreciation for his dry humour… but it wasn't until he'd gripped her hand that she'd remembered, belatedly, that he had once been a human.

That thought, while it shamed her in its slowness in coming, connected them, and she could no more turn her back on him than she could have turned her back on a human citizen.

Now, as the breeze shifted slightly and she rolled onto her back, she wondered if maybe she'd erred… true, he had proven to be a true and loyal friend, a man of wit and sharp intellect… but if she had never aided him in that clearing, or if she'd been colder in her approach, these events would never have needed to happen, and his life, poised as it was now on being dismantled, would never be at such risk.

She looked to the sky again, this time to guage the sun's position, and realized that unless he'd been held up, he'd be returning soon.

Settling back to continue her vigil, she thought back to the night he'd come crashing into her garden. Her lips twitched reluctantly… he'd been humiliated, she knew, and she hadn't helped by laughing. Her heart, though, had been pleased to see him, as unwise and unorthodox as it might have been… he was, after all, the enemy, and their encounter months prior had been intended to be an isolated incident. He'd broken the rules by seeking her out, and even though she'd known it was just as unwise to encourage it, she'd taken pity on him once again and invited him in.

As she drifted back to sleep with the sun warm on her face, she remembered him not as the strong, capable mage who had carried her out of his home city… but as the shy, endearingly witty soul sitting across from her at her table.


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

8 Years Ago

"Tea?"

Mairwen watched, anused, as the mage's eyes ceased scrutinizing her home and turned to her. He'd bound his face with leather, she saw, and though it obscured his eyes, she could see enough to see the faint look of shock in them as he absently waved a hand in her direction. "If you like."

Brow lifting slightly, she gestured to the wooden table in front of him. "Please, sit down."

Stiffly, he did, watching her every move in the meantime as she hung the kettle in the fireplace to heat water. As she worked, she said casually, "I could have killed you out there, Jehann. You gave me a fright." Turning and approaching, she sat across from him and met his eyes calmly. "You took a risk, surprising a paladin at night."

He snorted. "Believe me, madam," he said sharply, "had your bovine guard not scared me into next week, you would have never known I'd been here."

Her lips twitched slightly and she chuckled again, holding a hand up in surrender. "I shall speak with her about her habit of sneaking up on people in the morning," she joked, and he relaxed slightly. Before he could get defensive again, she tilted her head. "You never answered my question."

He met her eyes, lifting a brow of his own. "Which question are you referring to?"

"You never explained what brings you to the Alterac mountains," she clarified. She watched as his gaze dropped, clearly uncomfortable, and tilted her head, waiting for him to form his answer.

Finally he looked up, shrugging. "I was exploring the area, if you must know… I'd been travelling all day and had just set up camp away from the road when I heard you in the distance. In the spirit of investigating a potential threat, I sought you out."

She nodded, shifting & resting her chin on her hand. "You're far from home, sir mage." When he lifted his eyes to hers, she shrugged. "Only a few months ago, you called Silverpine your home, or so I assumed…. perhaps I was mistaken?"

There was no speculation in the question, only curiosity, and with mild alarm he felt himself slowly relaxing. "No, you assumed correct," he said, slowly letting himself settle back into his chair. "In fact, I haven't been in the area for long." He opened his mouth to continue, to tell her about moving to Tarren Mill, when caution had him pausing, glancing to her.

She watched him carefully, and when he quite obviously stopped in mid-explanation, she smiled gently. "Jehann."

Startled at the use of his name, he glanced to her, growing still. She continued gently. "I did not invite you into my home with the purpose of threatening you or your own. I assure you, you may speak freely."

He watched her for a long moment, obviously struggling with himself, before he shifted, looking away. "Forgive me," he finally said, uncomfortable. "You cannot know how surreal this experience is to me. I find it difficult to trust, after all this time."

She nodded immediately. "And so you should." When his eyes shot to hers, she lifted a hand. "Trust among our people is likely to be an unwise course of action… in most cases. However," she said, standing and walking to the hearth, "in this case, I do not believe either of us have any hidden agenda, nor anything really to gain by harming the other." Turning, she reached into the cupboard and brought down 2 teacups, glancing to him. "You're here, and it's late. I'm willing to provide conversation, if you wish it."

As she set the steaming cup in front of him gently, she smiled. "And if you do not, then I will see you off with best wishes." Her lips curved, amused, as she resettled across from him. "And a request that in the future, try to fall a little to the left of where you fell tonight. My tomatoes will not survive another assault."

Before he knew it, he was chuckling, once again feeling embarasment wash over him, but it was a watered-down version of earlier's humiliation. Amused, he lifted his cup, sipping the tea and feeling it warm him on its way down. "Believe me," he said wryly, "should the day come that I find myself on your land yet again, I'll be on the lookout for your cow as soon as I'm within a league of the place."

She laughed, sitting sideways in her chair and leaning back against the wall, the table at her left, her legs crossed casually. She turned her head, looking to him frankly. "You've changed since that day in Silverpine, Jehann. Your skills have obviously improved." She smiled. "I doubt very much if you would require aid should you encounter a worgen now."

Acknowledging that truth, he nodded, sipping his tea. "I've been working hard to grow in strength since our meeting… and have refrained from taking such drastic risks since then," he said, smiling slightly. He paused then, a sudden thought occurring to him, sobering him. He looked to her, deciding to be honest. "Though I'm told that simply being here with you is the greatest risk I could be taking. As I stated on our last meeting… we're enemies of war."

She nodded. "That we are." Sighing, she let her gaze fragment, thinking of the possible outcomes should someone discover her harbouring a Forsaken mage in her house, feeding him tea and conversation. "Believe me, mage," she said softly, not looking at him, "poor judgement would see me exiled as well."

He snorted. "Exiled, is it? The Forsaken do not know such leniency when it comes to treason, I'm afraid. If I were discovered here by my own kind, I would be executed, I'm sure of it."

She nodded. "I suppose your people have lost the ability to be lenient with transgressions, haven't they."

Surprised, he considered her words before nodding reluctantly. "I suppose we have. Our existence since being liberated has been difficult at best." He glanced to her, suddenly awkward. "Suffice it to say," he finished quickly, "we tend to have a zero-tolerance policy when it comes to enemies of war."

She nodded again. "And why not," she said softly, almost to herself. "After all, your families did not hesitate to instill a zero-tolerance policy when it came to you, did they."

He huffed a silent laugh that held little warmth. Lulled by the tea and conversation, he shook his head. "I was one of the lucky ones, I suppose," he said softly. "I had no family remaining alive to reject me when I returned home."

Her face pinched slightly in compassion and he found it startlingly easy to accept her sympathy. Unlike everything he'd been warned about when it came to his former race, he had yet to see any trace of pity or revulsion in her… in fact, this time as with the last, she met him with a direct sense of respect… the quiet unthinking respect one would show an equal, in fact, and it was this that had him feeling safe enough to speak freely.

He looked to her. "You said on our first encounter that not all humans had forsaken our kind." When she nodded carefully, watching him, he continued. "There are precious few tales of such acceptance among your kind, I'm afraid."

She smiled sadly. "Of course not," she agreed. Looking to him, she said, "And be you human or Forsaken, how quick would you be to share your own tale? Will you return to your Undercity and tell others of the evening you spent drinking tea with a human paladin?"

Seeing her point, he considered her words. "Then any contact between our people would be done quietly," he surmised, and she lifted a brow, silently asking him to consider her point once again.

Admitting she was right, he nodded, looking down into his teacup. "Of course it would," he answered for her, and she smiled softly, glad he understood. He glanced to her, amused. "You raise a good point. I doubt very much if I will be sharing this story once I return."

She leaned over, topping up his tea from the kettle between them before doing the same to her own cup. "And when will you be returning to the Undercity?"

He shook his head. "I hail from Tarren Mill, in the Hillsbrad Foothills, now."

Her face cleared and she nodded. "I see… then your skills have indeed improved. Hillsbrad is rough and beautiful country, certainly not kind to the weak who choose to travel through it."

"Agreed," he said wryly, thinking of the countless lions and bears that populated the region. She smiled. "I do tours of duty in Southshore every second month."

Interested, he looked to her. "Oh?"

She nodded. "Due to my remote location, I rent a room at the inn every second month. My time is spent equally split between here and there… by the first of the month," she clarified, "I will be living in Southshore, and will remain there to aid the town for the month… at which point I will return here."

He nodded. "A reasonable arrangement, considering your commute."

She smiled. "Indeed… I have a full day's ride to and from."

"And the month you're gone?" he asked, curious. "Does the Syndicate not disturb your home, your belongings?"

She shrugged. "They have broken in in the past," she said, "but they dare not attempt anything while I'm home." She smiled, her eyes dancing. "The one time they tried, I made sure they realized what a bad idea it is. Since then, they satisfy themselves with the occasional break-in once I'm gone. To be honest," she joked, "I doubt very much if their hearts are in it… my property holds little value to anyone other than myself, and I make sure I leave nothing of value behind when I go."

"Wise," he commented, draining his cup. Setting it down on the table, he looked to her openly. "My thanks for the tea, Mairwen, and the conversation." His lips twitched slightly and he allowed himself to joke with her. "And most especially for not bashing my skull in before giving me the chance to plead for my life."

She laughed, draining her own cup, and regarded him warmly. "It was in my own best interest to spare your life," she joked. "Slaughter on the property upsets my cow."

He laughed, the sound filling the cottage, and as her smile widened, he rose, stretching. "I should return to camp," he said, a thread of regret sliding through him, tainting his voice, making him hesitant. She, too, paused, and then spoke before her common sense could stop her. "You're welcome to make camp on the property," she offered, startled when the words were spoken. He paused, his head swivelling sharply to regard her in shock, and she hurried to explain, her face flushing slightly. "It is late," she pointed out, almost defensively, "and as secure as you may believe your camp to be, the Syndicate patrol the forest at night. You would undoubtedly be discovered by morning."

He froze, that thought never having occurred to him, and truly torn, he bit his lip unconsciously. As welcoming as she was, not only did he have to process the evening's conversation in his mind, he also did not want to place her at risk by being present should someone come calling.

She saw the indecision on his face and shrugged. "The choice is yours, of course," she said, "but your chances of surviving the night without needing to defend yourself are far greater if you simply sleep on my lawn."

He paused for another moment and then slumped… if what she said were true, then she was right, and he could ill afford to pass up the chance to pass the night safely. Sighing, he looked to her. "In that case," he said stiffly, a bit uncomfortable, "I will accept with gratitude, and will be on my way at first light."

She nodded, belatedly wondering yet again why she always acted without thinking, and then pushed it away. "As you wish."

He nodded as she moved past him, opening the door and stepping back. Extending her arm, she smiled. "After you."

He paused, back on shaky ground, and wishing he could somehow reclaim the ease they'd briefly found in the kitchen. Moving past her, he stepped out into her dooryard and looked around for a suitable place to sleep. Looking over his shoulder, he said, "I have a steed tethered back in the woods. Will he be alright?"

Her eyes widened. "You should have mentioned him earlier!" she exclaimed. Turning quickly, she re-entered the house, returning momentarily with her war hammer. Gesturing to the property, she said "Please, make yourself comfortable… I will retrieve your steed."

He immediately drew himself up, bristling. "That will be unnecessary."

She was still moving, hefting her hammer and resting it against her shoulder, starting to turn away. "Don't be ridiculous," she said dismissively. "Which direction is your camp?"

He set his jaw, irritation flashing through him as he drew himself up. "Mairwen," he said firmly. When she turned, finally registering the tone of his voice, he continued. "I am more than capable of retrieving my steed."

She frowned. "The terrain is rough to the unfamiliar, especially in the dark… and should you encounter the Syndicate, you are ill prepared to defend yourself. It would be wiser for me to retrieve him."

She was apparently as stubborn as she was welcoming, he thought with irritation, and shook his head. "And when you reach him and he refuses to let you approach? Forsaken mounts are notoriously distrustful to the living." It was an embellishment that he hoped she wouldn't test… from what he'd seen in Tarren Mill, his steed would fawn over anyone willing to give him a quick pat.

She stopped, her eyes raking over him, obviously trying to decide if he was being honest or only trying to waylay her. He didn't give her a chance to over-ride him, however, and moved past her purposefully, starting through her garden in the direction from which he'd come. "I shall return soon." He glanced over his shoulder as he started hoisting himself up the same embankment he'd fallen down more than hour earlier. "Call off your cow in the meantime."

She watched him go, slowly lowering her hammer, her face turning speculative. He was indeed a proud man, she realized, and knew she'd have to be careful not to injure his pride any further than she already had. In defeat, she turned away, returning to her cottage and starting to tidy up.

It took Jehann the better part of half an hour, and when he returned, he tethered his steed at the top of the embankment, away from Mairwen's understandably spooked warhorse. Living steeds were notoriously afraid of undead steeds, and while it was at times an unfortunate reminder to the Forsaken of how distasteful they themselves no doubt were, it was also understandable. Animals were unable to show compassion for their fallen compatriots, responding only to the sense that there was something unnatural & threatening about the undead steeds, and they wouldn't abide being near them for long. Out of respect for the woman inside, Jehann saw little reason to cause her steed distress and instead made sure his own horse was safely tied downwind before returning to the cottage.

Mairwen was waiting just inside, and looked him over discreetly for signs of any trouble he'd gotten himself into before nodding in satisfaction. "Well done, sir mage. Your horse?"

He jerked his head back over his shoulder. "Safely tethered above your garden." At her surprised look, he shrugged. "I saw little reason to distress your horse, Mairwen, and it seemed a poor repayment of your kindness."

Startled, she realized she had neglected to foresee any potential problems between their mounts, and was perversely grateful that he'd had the foresight to prevent a tussle between the animals.

Of course he did, she realized, her heart tightening again in a rush of sympathy. Why wouldn't he anticipate her living steed's reaction? The warhorse would simply be mirroring everyone's reaction to him himself.

Suddenly glad that she'd given him a reaction other than horror, she smiled to him. "Well thought, mage… I admit, I hadn't considered my own steed's comforts."

He waved it away, secretly pleased that he'd impressed her. "If it is all the same to you," he said, moving past the topic, "I should retire for the evening. It is a full day's ride back to Hillsbrad."

She nodded, watching as he settled on the ground, sitting back against the wall of her cottage, unconsciously protecting his back. Turning back to the door, she looked over her shoulder. "Rest well, Jehann."

He nodded, a smile ghosting over his lips. "And you, Mairwen."

With that, she retreated inside, closing the door softly.

Once inside, she started making preparations for bed, moving disjointedly through her small house, closing shutters and dousing candles. Changing into her long sleeping gown, she slid between her sheets, her mind on the man resting against the outer wall of her house.

Outside, Jehann fell into a rare sleep, lulled by the sense of unconscious security he found resting back against her wall. He slept so deeply that he never stirred when a blanket was laid over him gently an hour past midnight, and she never knew how he'd reacted to the discovery that he'd been covered through the night.

He was gone when she arose the next morning, her blanket folded neatly on the ground where he'd rested, a small white flower placed on top in thanks. As she lifted the fragrant herb to her nose and inhaled, she smiled slightly and knew she should feel a thread of unease at the thought of her people's enemy leaving her flowers.

Somehow she couldn't manage it, and with a sense of levity she hadn't felt in some time, she started the process of packing for her next month on duty.


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Present Day

Patrick shifted, scanning their surroundings for what felt like the millionth time, and sighed restlessly. Seated behind the older mage, the novelty of travelling on the back of a warhorse had abandoned him over an hour ago, and he was stiff and sore. His companion was stoic and quiet, asking short questions only rarely and answering Patrick's own questions in a clipped tone that encouraged no conversation. Immensely bored, Patrick unconsciously sighed again.

Jehann lifted a brow, amused at the younger man, and drawled, "My apologies if my company bores you, sir priest."

Startled by the sound of the mage's voice, Patrick jumped and stammered a reply. "Of course not, sir!" he protested, his voice tripping over itself in his haste to reassure the older man. He was about to continue when he heard Jehann chuckle, amused. "You have been restless for over an hour now."

The priest paused, then slumped, resigned. "Indeed," he agreed, looking around again. "In all honestly, sir, I have neve encountered terrain quite as dull as this one."

Jehann made a sound of agreement in his throat, casting his own eyes around. "Agreed," he said dryly. "Believe me, if I had no need to be here, I would not be. As it is, I was very close to leaving the Undercity when you found me, and was looking forward to my departure."

Patrick winced. "My apologies," he sighed. "Perhaps I should have held my tongue concerning your friend?"

Jehann was silent for a long moment, struggling with the war of emotions the other man's words provoked, before he cleared his throat. "You did the right thing," he finally said. Dropping his voice, he muttered, "You can hardly be blamed for the position I find myself in now."

Patrick heard the resigned tone to the other man's voice and decided now was as good of a time as any to ask the question he'd been wanting to ask since he'd first met the man in the Undercity.

"Sir," he said hesitantly, "this human must mean a great deal to you." He paused, and when the older man didn't reply, he continued. "Who… who is she to you?"

Jehann was silent another moment, setting his jaw and trying to decide how best to answer. His first, instinctive reaction was to protect his past and warn the young priest off of the topic, but the days of stress, coupled with the morning he'd just had of entertaining horrible images of her potential fate once left alone, had rendered him weak, it seemed. Startled and dismayed to feel a tug towards the other man, he swallowed thickly. "She… she was one of the greatest friends I've ever know."

Surprised and a little gratified that the older man had graced his intrusive question with an answer, Patrick lifted a brow. "When you were human, you mean?"

Jehann sighed deeply. "No, priest… we never met when I was alive. We met a year after I'd joined the Forsaken." He paused. "We met 8 years ago."

Patrick was startled, and fought to understand. "But… you were as you are now? When you met?"

"Aye."

Shaking his head, the younger man was at a loss for a reply, and sighed. "Forgive me," he said softly. "I have never heard of such a friendship."

"Neither had I," Jehann said wryly, starting to scan the roadside for signs of his egress that morning. It wouldn't do to miss his exit & not be able to find her. Distracted, he continued, "I had a hard time trusting her accepting nature initially. I understand your confusion."

He shifted, spotting with relief the barely visible path that broke away from the road. Turning Echo onto it, he continued. "The first time we met, she saved my life from the worgen of Silverpine. I had gotten myself into a losing battle, and she had excellent timing… and a compassionate nature. She slayed the beast and healed me before continuing on her way."

Patrick's eyes widened. "She's a priest then?" he asked, thinking of her as a healer. Jehann shook his head. "A paladin."

Patrick nodded. "I see." He was fascinated, realizing he was learning far more about the mage than anyone else in the Undercity. The thought was tantalizing… Jehann Frostheart was well known for his courage, his loyalty in battle, but also for his secrets, and the thought that he was privy to a few of the deeper ones had him puffing up slightly with pride.

His train of thought was broken, however, when they broke through the trees and stepped carefully into a small clearing. Admiring the older man's choice in hiding spots, Patrick stiffly dismounted, looking around. The clearing was tiny and comfortable, cozy even with the sun warming it, but was all but invisible from the surrounding forest. If there was anywhere she would have been safe to pass the day alone, this was a good choice.

Jehann dismounted as well, his face grave as he scanned the clearing. Patrick followed his eyes, realizing why the older man looked so concerned.

The clearing was empty.

Jehann felt a thread of fear wash through him, turning his veins to ice, as he spun on a heel, checking the clearing behind him, scanning for her. Dismayed and angry, he spun back to face the priest, his expression dark enough to have the younger man backing away. "Are you certain this is where you left her?" he asked, his voice weak, not sure if he was provoking the man or not.

Jehann made a harsh sound in his throat, stalking around the clearing. "Of course I'm sure," he said, panic showing in his voice. Spotting the opening in the trees that led to the stream, he didn't wait for the other man as he pushed through the trees, hoping against hope that she'd merely fallen asleep next to the water.

The brook was closer then he expected, barely three feet from bank to bank and hidden among ferns, and Jehann came to a sudden halt as he burst through the trees. His eyes catching a splash of color on the bank, he felt his gorge rise in his throat as he realized her clothing, the tattered remnants of her undergarments that she'd been wearing when he left, were laying on the bank, rumpled, filthy and discarded.

"No," he breathed, going down to one knee and lifting the thin camisole, balling it in his fist as he battled guilt and fear. Patrick crashed through the underbrush to stop beside him, taking in the scene within moments and understanding immediately what the woman's discarded clothing no doubt meant.

Obviously, she'd been discovered… and whoever found her had seen no reason to burden themselves with her clothing.

Jehann rose quickly, turning to face the younger man. His eyes were wide, his face naked, and Patrick was startled all over again at the level of panic he saw displayed on the mage's face. "We need to find her," Jehann said tightly, keeping a tight control on himself as he stalked back to camp, obviously preparing to launch himself back into his horse's saddle and take off. Patrick followed quickly, stumbling over forest debris in his haste to keep up, and was about to pull himself back up behind the other man when a movement to his right caught his eye.

He looked to the treeline unconsciously and froze. There, among the trees, was a human woman, her eyes wide and haunted, sunk into her head, her golden hair falling around her shoulders in a sheet. She was wrapped in a blanket, and the hand that clutched it closed at her neck was pitifully thin, the wristbone pronounced. She was shaking violently.

He reached up as Jehann, oblivious, started to turn the horse around the way they'd come, and Patrick gripped the bridle, halting the horse's pivot. Jehann looked down at him and snarled, "Are you mad, priest, or do you simply have a death wish? The longer we remain here, the further away her captors are getting."

Patrick nodded towards the frightened woman calmly. She'd made no move, indeed she seemed to him much like a frightened rabbit, frozen in her fear. Jehann looked in the direction indicated and froze, his body tensing for a moment before he launched himself back out of the saddle, rushing to the woman.

"Mairwen," he whispered harshly, relief making his voice rough. Reaching out, he took her shaking form into his arms, drawing her close, feeling her trembling as she relaxed against him. "Why were you hiding?" he asked gently, looking down and brushing the hair from her temple.

She swallowed, her eyes leaving Patrick for the first time and meeting Jehann's. "I heard a voice I didn't recognize as you approached," she whispered, tears clogging her throat as she fought her embarassment and relief. "I hid."

He nodded. "Wise," he said approvingly, and Patrick blinked, suddenly surprised and amused. Only moments ago, that same wise move had succeeded in terrifying both of them. Mairwen looked past Jehann to the other man, scanning him quickly, trying to guage whether he was a threat or not.

He was shorter than Jehann, stockier, and was dressed in pale robes of fine silk. His head was bald and his face unadorned by leather, his features relatively undamaged by his time as a slave. His eyes were gold, giving off a soft glow that right now was warm and gently amused, and she felt something tug at the back of her mind when she realized he was somehow familiar to her.

He spoke, and with his voice she realized with shock who he was. "You look," he said carefully, not wanting to spook her further, "far better than you did the last time we met, lady."

Her breath caught and her eyes widened. "You!" she exclaimed, stepping out of Jehann's embrace and facing him on trembling legs. "I remember you."

Gratified and a little surprised, given her condition when they'd met, Patrick bowed slightly at the waist. "You honor me," he said simply. Stepping closer, he extended his hand slowly, his expression remaining warm. "I'm known as Patrick."

Stunned, she slowly reached out and felt his hand wrap around hers. His touch was familiar to her as well, she realized. "Mairwen," she said faintly, before releasing his hand and looking to Jehann for answers, her expression horribly confused and uneasy.

Jehann rested a hand on her shoulder and studied her closely. "How are you feeling?"

She took a shaky breath, still trembling. "Clean," she said simply, and he nodded, looking her over discreetly. "You obviously were able to bathe… did you run into any trouble while I was gone?"

She shook her head, tightening the blanket around her unconsciously under his stare. "Nothing," she said. "I slept most of the day, to be honest."

He nodded, turning back to Echo and untying one of the saddlebags. "I have provisions and supplies."

When she didn't answer, Jehann looked over his shoulder and saw her once again staring at Patrick, her expression guarded, her stance poised for flight. He pulled the set of cloth armor from the bag and turned back. "If you'd care to get dressed," he said gently, "I will be happy to answer your questions then."

She nodded disjointedly, taking the bundle from him and turning back to the trees, retreating into privacy. "Do not go far," he called out, and she nodded as she vanished into the underbrush.

It took her a few minutes to get dressed, and when she re-emerged from

the trees, Jehann's breath caught even as he felt his heart break a little. In her previous state of undress, it had been obvious how frail she'd become during her captivity, but somehow, seeing her in a set of fitted armor, the difference was somehow even more pronounced. Her hair, the golden sheet he remembered, was all that remained as a testament to the healthy, fit woman she'd once been, and it was currently tied loosely back from her face with a leather thong she'd liberated from the waistband of the pants she wore. Her cheeks were sunken and the cheekbones, now that her hair was pulled back from her face, made startling statements, rising sharply from the hollows of her cheeks & emphasizing how sunken her eyes were. Her skin was sallow and a fine sheen of sweat had rose from the simple effort of getting dressed, and as she returned to his side, he saw how hard it was for her to walk without stumbling, she was so weak. Reaching out, he steadied her as she reached him and saw her cast a long, nervous look to Patrick. She was clearly uneasy with him there.

Deciding to dispense with the formalities first thing, Jehann nodded to the young man in question. "You recognize the priest, do you not? You know who he is?"

She paused, the nodded jerkily. When she spoke, her voice was tight. "He's the one who… who wouldn't let me die."

Her unconscious phrasing had Patrick wincing, feeling true umbrage at her words, and he bristled slightly. "You say that as if it were a negative thing," he said, his voice betraying only the tiniest of bite. She blinked, and as Jehann watched, she seemed to reclaim a shadow of her old spirit, because her eyes narrowed slightly and blazed with irritation.

She drew herself up stiffly, furious at every tremble in her limbs that betrayed her weakness, and met the man's eyes with her own. "I speak the truth, healer. Is that not why you were summoned into that chamber of death? To prevent my own?"

Patrick faltered, looking for a retort and realizing he could offer none. Slumping slightly, he met her eyes again, and this time they were devoid of anger. "You speak truly, lady."

She nodded stiffly and he continued slowly. "If it comforts you, madam, your recovery at my hands was unintentional." He looked away, feeling awkward. "I only intended to ease your discomfort as you died. I did not intend to prolong your torture the way Apothecary Keever did."

She caught her breath, shocked. "You… you would have allowed me to die?" she whispered, so pale her eyes stood out in stark relief against her skin, and he nodded, wondering if his admission had simply made things worse.

To his surprise, she approached, stumbling weakly and reaching out. With surprise, he reached out to steady her and instead found her clasping his hands tight, holding them in a grip that had her knuckles whitening. "Thank you, priest," she whispered roughly, tears once again clogging her throat, distorting her voice. He blinked, nodding blankly, and then the moment was gone… she released his hands and turned back to Jehann.

She saw the stricken expression on his face before he could school it away and he cleared his throat, his face passive once more. "I met our young friend here at The Sepulcher while I procured supplies," he said. "He offered to assess your health for me. Since I lack the knowledge to accurately guage your condition, I accepted."

She hesitated before nodding, once again glancing to Patrick suspiciously. "And in return?"

Patrick smirked slightly, realizing that although her body was in terrible shape, her mind, traumatized as it must be, was still quick. Jehann shrugged. "In return," he answered, "I am in his debt."

He reached out before she could protest him being in anyone's debt, least of all Patrick's, and gripped her shoulders. "We have a couple of hours left before we need to move on," he said gently. "Sit while I start a small fire, and have something to eat."

The suggestion of food once again resulted in her stomach growling, and she smiled faintly, nodding. "I'm out voiced," she said lightly, easing her weight down onto the ground in front of Echo. The warhorse leaned down and sniffed her shoulder, and as Patrick watched, she lifted her hand absently and rested it on the horse's bony nose, clearly as comfortable with the dead steed as she was her companions.

An odd human to be sure, he thought as he settled a careful distance from her… but then again, he'd known that the moment they'd met. Her resilience and strength had surprised him in the bowels of the Undercity, and they continued to do so now as he watched her blithely ignoring her own weaknesses to do what she could to help, accepting only what assistance was absolutely necessary.

Patrick crossed his legs and leaned forward, regarding her calmly. "How do you feel, Mairwen?"

Her eyes slid to him, guarded, and she said, "Well enough, sir priest."

Jehann was at the far edge of the clearing, gathering dried sticks from the forest floor to use for kindling, and snorted. Without turning, he said, "Mairwen, would it be too much to ask that my debt to young Patrick not be for nothing?" Straightening, he turned back to them, his eyes flickering to her in mild warning. "You will tell him what he needs to know so that I can safely guage what our next course of action should be."

She stiffened, irritated, but the mention of having him owe Patrick a debt for nothing, simply because she refused to cooperate, had her forcing the irritation back inside her. Jehann, she thought, had been through quite enough where she was involved without her needing to make it even more difficult.

She straightened, feeling Echo snuffling along her hair, and met Patrick's eyes. "In all honestly, sir priest," she said stiffly, "I am feeling terrible."

He nodded encouragement, a smile tugging the corners of his lips in sympathy. "Please tell me how," he asked politely, and she sighed.

"My skin is at times burning hot and then freezing cold, and I sweat at odd times. It hurts me when I inhale, and I can't seem to exhale fully without effort. My limbs are sore, and my muscles are hardly up to the task of walking, let alone anything even remotely strenuous." She closed her eyes, her brows pinched together slightly, concentrating. "I have a pain behind my eyes all the time, it seems, and my eyes themselves are still adjusting to full light. It causes me pain to open them fully in the sun."

He nodded, easing closer to her and taking in all of her symptoms. "Well," he said lightly, once he was sitting beside her, "that does indeed sound terrible, lady."

Her lips twitched slightly. "Glad you agree."

He lifted a hand and paused. "May I?"

She hesitated, then nodded, shoving aside her instinctive fear of the man… it seemed simply having his face in connection with her cage was enough to have her unconsciously wanting to flee, and if she were honest with herself, he hadn't done anything yet to show he was anything other than honourable, albeit in his own self-serving way. Swallowing, she allowed him to examine her.

He rested a dry hand on her shoulder and pushed gently, lowering her to her back on the ground and going to work, assessing how bad the damage inside her was. His hands hovering an inch from her skin, he ran them over her entire form, never touching her, acutely aware of her condition as it revealed itself to him.

He glanced up to Jehann. "Her fever has taken hold again," he reported. "Fear not, however… it is not as advanced as it was when I healed it initially." Continuing his asessment, he relayed his report almost clinically. "Her head has suffered blunt force trauma in the recent past. There is slight swelling which is causing a restriction of her veins. This is giving her almost contant headaches and resulting in poor concentration." Moving his hands lower, he continued. "Her muscles have begun to atrophy from disuse. Their mass is only 2/3 what it should be given her age. The result is that she finds movement incredible challenging and exhausting." He glanced to her briefly, lifting a brow. "You are indeed a strong-willed young woman, to have made it so far."

She was spared replying when he smoothly continued, skimming his hands over her waist and hips. "Your digestion," he said, speaking to her this time, "is more confused and weakened than you probably realize. That will have to be remedied if you expect to gain any amount of weight back."

She swallowed, nodding, fascinated despite herself. It felt very much like being at her own doctor, and Patrick was efficient and professional, impersonal and never once touching her. So far, he'd been accurate in describing everything she knew she felt but had no words for, and she found herself suddenly relieved that she would be spared trying to put into words for Jehann just how ill she still was.

Jehann had started the fire with a soft word and an extended hand, a flash of flame leaping from his palm to ignite the small pile of wood before him, and was now settled on his haunches, listening to Patrick's report silently. His face was devoid of any emotion, and Mairwen turned her head on the ground, meeting his eyes silently.

He regarded her calmly, steadily, and she felt a small swell of emotion in her chest, struggling to be acknowledged. As she regarded her old friend, he shifted, rolling his shoulders and causing his robes to pull tightly against his chest. He was powerful, she thought again, and wondered for the first time just what had happened in his life in the past 7 years to render him so capable, so confident, to have a presence so commanding.

Had he faced trials and tests of his abilities? Had he struggled with his identity the way he had when they'd met, trying to rediscover who he was in a world that was new and yet not new to him? Had he made friends, formed bonds, spent evenings in a tavern laughing with people of like mind?

Had he found a mate?

The thought slipped into her poignant reflections, causing her to pause, the idea taking root. Carefully, she regarded him again, and realized that in addition to his sense of confidence and command, he'd become almost vital. The way he held himself now screamed vitality and she knew full well how females would respond to such an aura, no matter the race.

She knew from experience, she corrected, and felt a wry twist of her heart as she realized for the first time since he'd rescued her that she still… cared for him.

After all this time, she thought, and with resignation she let her eyes close, shutting out his image as Patrick's voice droned on somewhere above her.

Damn the Light, she cursed tiredly. The years separating them between then and now were supposed to have erased these feelings. How could she still feel this way? After 7 long years of his absence? And just what did she hope would happen, now that she was aware of how she still felt?

For the first time, she was grateful for her poor health. It gave her a neutral refuge from facing such awkward thoughts, and would no doubt be a sufficient distraction for him as well. The last thing she wanted was a repeat of their last conversation 7 years ago… if he thought she still felt this way, then he'd no doubt feel compelled to remind her yet again of all the things in life that just weren't feasible.

Pushing the memory away, not ready to face it just yet, she opened her eyes when she felt Patrick leave his position near her feet and return to her head, looking down at her. He smiled gently. "Do you understand everything I've just reported?" he asked gently, and she nodded, unwillingly remembering the last time she'd lain on her back and he'd spoken so kindly. Wondering suddenly how she could have felt anger or fear, she smiled slightly, tired. "You very eloquently convinced me that I do, indeed, feel terrible."

He smiled in return as Jehann huffed a chuckle, and then Patrick was looking to Jehann. "I believe I can help her, sir, if you'd be so kind as to prepare several bottles of water… this will deplete my mana several times, I expect."

Jehann nodded and immediately went to work, calming his mind and calling forth the proper incantation for conjuring water. As he quickly and efficiently brought three bottles into creation, he glanced to Mairwen. "You are comfortable allowing him to heal you?"

She nodded, smiling gently to Jehann. "I am," she assured him. Satisfied, he nodded and passed the water to Patrick, who put the bottles in the grass beside him, condensation sliding down the outsides of the bottles and pooling in the grass. He glanced to Jehann. "My thanks," he said, and then turned back to Mairwen. "Unlike my sloppy attempt in the Undercity, this will take more time… but the end result will be binding and permanent. By the time I'm finished," he continued, "you will undoubtedly feel like a new woman."

She smiled again, closing her eyes. "That would be a nice change, I'm sure," she said, and then fell silent as he started to work.

The clearing was silent save the whisper of the breeze and the soft muttering from Patrick as he chanted under his breath, working slowly but carfully. Mairwen soon fell asleep, the warmth of the Light soothing her aching muscles and easing the ever-present throbbing behind her eyes.

Jehann watched Patrick work carefully, his chest tight as this stranger systematically restored the woman before him to health… not to vitality to be sure, and certainly not to her previous weight and strength, but three hours later, when the water bottles were emptied and discarded and Patrick was weary, he finally settled back on his heels and took in the woman before him as a whole.

Pleased with his work, he looked to Jehann, smiling broadly. Jehann nodded solemnly, impassive, but his jaw was tight and he was swallowing frequently… Patrick guessed that the man was feeling more potent emotion than he allowed himself to show.

He knew he was right when Jehann cleared his throat. "My thanks, Patrick," he said huskily, swallowing. Rising, he approached, and went to one knee beside her, brushing her hair back from her temple. Her eyes were no longer sunken, no longer ringed with bruising, her nose had been straightened and repaired, her lips restored to their original shape and fullness. For the first time since he'd rescued her, he didn't have to struggle to see the woman he remembered.

He hadn't anticipated the rush of warmth in his chest, however, at the sight of her long-loved face finally restored. Bowing his head, he realized what a fool he'd been 7 years ago for believing, in all his self-righteous conviction, that the years spent apart would help him to stop loving her, as he knew he should.

This was no new truth to him, but it tasted twice as bitter with her face now reminding him once again of happier days, days when they'd blithely ignored the restrictions that should have kept them from being friends.

As Patrick retreated back to his spot by the fire, leaving her to sleep, Jehann absently conjured food for the man and passed it over silently, remembering with a pain close to heartbreak the day he'd realized he'd fallen in love with the paladin.


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter Ten

8 Years Ago

Jehann woke to the warm morning, the Hillsbrad sunlight casting a golden glow to his room. He rolled his head on his pillow, blinking sleepily and automatically gauging the time of day by the light's path across his floor. Sitting, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and realized this was the second night this week he'd slept.

Perhaps there was more truth to the old idea that fresh mountain air was health-giving, he reflected wryly. He hadn't slept this often, or nearly this well, since he'd been human.

He rose, stretching and thinking of Mairwen, as he did every morning these days. It had been three months since their evening cup of tea, and in that time he'd found little else to think about. Not truly intending to return, he'd held himself to that conviction for nearly a month before he'd found himself 'unconsciously' directing his steed North one morning when he'd intended to head west. His steed had groaned in irritation when he'd realized what route his rider was guiding him on, and had complained bitterly the entire trip, but Jehann refused to let the lazy creature return to the stables… as it was, the beast's mutterings and censure had him venturing out on foot whenever he could manage it, if only to escape the ornery horse's moods.

A trip to Alterac was a bit far to be traversing on foot, however, no matter how much more capable he was this time. His paranoia had lessened as his skills had increased, and the mage trainers in Tarren Mill were pleased with his progress. He'd proven a valuable asset to the town and had made a name for himself among the Deathguards as a reliable, hard working man who wanted only his due in return.

The day he'd returned to her cottage, she'd obviously only been home a short time, as he found her airing out the rooms and washing her curtains in the lake. Swinging out of his saddle and ignoring the small rush of pleasure he felt at her wry smile when she spotted him, he'd unspokenly joined in and helped. She hadn't asked questions, nor had she warned him off, though there were several times through the day that he knew she felt she should. Each time, he'd silently asked her not to send him away, and as if she heard him, every time she somehow resolved her unease herself and remained silent.

He honestly believed and was grateful that he'd found a forbidden link to his lost humanity, and that the pleasure he felt when in her company was nothing more than a natural reaction to being free to be himself around a member of his previous race. Sure, she was witty and kind, and her face was indeed lovely to look upon, but what concerned him more was her ability to help him to be himself… to be someone very close to the man he'd once been. He'd died young, after all… barely in his 20s, and for the first time since he'd died, he was again finding that young, care-free sense of humour he'd had, that sense of play. It was refreshing and felt like a gift… and who would he be if he'd refused such a precious thing?

He'd remained on her property that night, sleeping once more with his back against her cottage, and had awoke the next morning covered yet again. How she managed to cover him over without waking him, he didn't know, but as it did the first time, the discovery brought warmth to his chest and a lump to his throat. He once again left as dawn was breaking, leaving the blanket folded neatly, only instead of a peacebloom flower, he found a small yet lovely clump of Mageroyal, the rich red petals gleaming, the scent poignant. Resting a blossom on the blanket in gratitude to her for yet again letting him into her world, however briefly, he made his departure.

The next time he'd found himself at her cottage, however, she hadn't been home. She was spending her month in Hillsbrad, and had been gone about a week when he rode onto her property. He'd been planning a small surprise for her since he'd visited the last time… she'd made mention over tea that when she returned, she had a great amount of wood to gather and store for the upcoming winter, a chore she hated and did not look forward to every year.

Satisfied that she was indeed still away, Jehann tethered his cranky steed and went to work, hoping to save her the trouble of putting the firewood away when she returned.

The job took him 4 days, but when it was finished he felt both pleasure & foreboding… now that the job was done, had he over-stepped his boundaries? He tossed the indecision back and forth for a few minutes before deciding that any woman who resented not having to stack firewood was surely suffering a deficit in the head. Satisfied, he retrieved his steed, who was in much better spirits after the 4 day rest, and left her property behind him.

But not before finding a stick and etching the letter 'J' into the dirt floor of her woodshd.

He'd be damned if he allowed someone else to take credit for the past 4 days' worth of work, he thought, amused. Finishing the letter with a flourish, he left.

That had been the last time he'd forced his nag over the mountain. Dressing and glancing out the window, he decided maybe the day had come to bolster his courage and find out, finally, whether he truly had overtstepped his boundaries when he'd put all of her wood in for her.

Feeling young and strong, he made the trip in good time, his ears long since mute to the complaints of his huffing steed. The sun was hanging low in the sky when he reached his usual point of entry onto her property… the back of her garden. Dismounting smoothly, he tethered his steed securely to a nearby poplar tree, shot her cow a filthy look, and nimbly hopped down the embankment, his step light, his eyes on the warm glow coming from her windows.

He'd made his way halfway through her garden when voices had him halting, startled. With shock and a sudden swell of fear, he heard a man's low timbre answering her own voice, and suddenly he could have kicked himself for his stupidity. How foolish was he, he wondered harshly, that he'd never considered that she may have company on one of these unannounced visits? And if her company discovered him here, not only would Jehann's life most likely be forfeit, but worse, he'd be placing her in a terrible position of explaining his presence.

Thankfully, it was far darker on her lawn, on the lakeshore, than it had been up on the road, and he easily slid into the shadows surrounding her house. Damn it, if he were going to be forced from his friend's property, he wanted a look at the man who was doing the forcing first.

It didn't take him long to realize, once he was pressed against her wall, that their voices weren't coming from inside after all… instead, he realized they were coming from the small dock that jutted into the lake from the front of her property.

Relaxing further, he slid to the edge of the house and peeked around the corner, spotting the two figures on the dock immediately.

They spoke in hushed tones, their voices tense. They appeared to be arguing about something, and as Jehann watched, Mairwen lifted the man's hand and pointed to what appeared to be a minor wound harshly, speaking rapidly and angrily. The man wrenched his hand away from hers and tossed back an angry reply, his voice pitched too low for Jehann to hear the words, but even if he could have, he didn't think he'd have paid them any attention… at that moment, the man reached out and pulled Mairwen into a tight embrace, tucking her head under his chin, lifting his head, his profile finally visible in the dim light of the sunset.

Jehann wasn't sure what affected him more… the flash of jealousy that another man was holding her close, the sight of which forced him to understand his own need to do the same… or the sight of the man's faintly glowing eyes.

"By the Light," Jehann breathed, trembling from shock. The man she was embracing so tightly was as dead as Jehann himself was.

Rage flashed through him at the thought of her romantically involved with a Forsaken. The thought of someone as lovely, as alive as her, entangled in passion with a member of his own race was profoundly disturbing to him, and even as his protective streak wanted to protect her from that image, he also realized belatedly that he had no such trouble with the image if it was HIS undead form she was entangled with.

He made a garbled sound in his throat, horror washing through him as he realized for the first time how much he'd come to care for the girl who was at this moment slowly leading her Forsaken lover back towards the house. Distracted by his shock at finding himself imagining any sort of 'entangling' he might want to do with her, he froze when her head came up sharply, his inarticulate expression of horror having caught her ear.

She gasped when she spotted the figure in the shadows and he saw panic flood her features. Shoving the Forsaken man behind her, she demanded, "Who goes there!"

Jehann realized with shame that he was frightening her… standing in the shadows as he was, it was obvious she couldn't see his face. Lifting his hands, he calmly steped into the quickly fading light, gauging them both for a reaction.

Mairwen's was fairly predictable… her first reaction was anger. "Jehann!" she said, relaxing slightly, her voice pitched high in her nerves. "By the Light, Jehann, you took ten years from my life!"

The man behind her had froze, his expression terrified at the sight of one of his own kind catching him with Mairwen. Carefully, he rested his hands on Mairwen's shoulders, and together they provided a united front, Jehann knew. Her jaw tightened when she remembered the man with her, and her chin lifted proudly. "I was not expecting you."

"That much is obvious," he snapped, before his manners forced him to say, much quieter, "It was not my intent to frighten you. I heard a man's voice… I assumed he was human, and therefore remained hidden."

She took a shaky breath, clearly trying to decide how best to proceed. Finally deciding that blunt honesty was likely the best course of action, she folded her hands at her waist. "Well," she said, false bravado in her voice, "since you're here, I suppose a few introductions are in order."

Jehann's eyes reluctantly met those of the nervous man behind her. The other man was tall, as tall as himself even, and was almost completely bald except for a long ponytail hanging down his back, a thick black rope that hung to the center of his back. His cheeks were perforated with holes where decay had eaten through the flesh before he'd been liberated, and his eyes were bright and wary.

The stranger spoke up, hesitant. "Perhaps it would be best if I left, Mair," he said slowly, and Jehann felt anger at the other man's common shortening of her name. Apparently they were on close terms indeed.

Mairwen shot him an exasperated look. "I've waited all month for our visit," she said tightly. "I won't see you scurry off into the dark like a cockroach when a candle is lit."

She turned back to Jehann before the other man could throw a retort back to her. "Jehann," she said, drawing the other man up beside her, "This… this is Oliver." She paused, then sent him an intense look. "…my brother."

Jehann caught his breath, his gaze once more going to the man in question who was once again resting his hands on Mairwen's (his sister's, Jehann's mind whispered) shoulders. Mairwen herself was watching him carefully, frightened of what his reaction might bring, and she rushed on. "Please," she begged quietly, "please don't turn us in. We're… we're all the other has left."

Tears stood in her eyes and Jehann struggled with more emotion than he'd ever felt in one moment. Truly staggered, he stumbled forward, his face naked, his emotions running rampant over his features as he reached past Mairwen and turned the other man to face him.

Oliver, nervous, turned willingly and looked his compatriot in the face, lifting his chin. He felt Jehann's hands grip his shoulders and was about to repeat his sister's request for discretion when he broke off his train of thought, feeling shock rush through him as the other man embraced him tightly, shaking.

Stunned, he met his sister's eyes over the other man's shoulder, perplexed. Mairwen looked gratified and startled, and as Oliver watched, she swallowed thickly as tears of relief sprang into her eyes. Before he could speak, the mage was setting him back from him and looking him over, taking a shaky breath.

Jehann swallowed past the lump of emotion that threatened to choke him and said hoarsely, "I would never rob from you what I wasn't fortunate enough to have myself." He released the other man's shoulders as Oliver slowly relaxed. "I was not lucky enough to have family left alive after the Scourge came… but if I had, I like to think they would have accepted me, as well."

He turned to Mairwen and snorted. "As for you," he said, his voice clipped and irritated, "how you could possibly think I would betray you after putting in 4 days of hard labour in your woodshed is beyond me."

With that, he gripped her shoulders tightly and pulled her to him, kissing her soundly and quickly on the lips.

She made a startled sound in her throat, her eyes flying wide open, her hands instinctively coming up to grip his shoulders, but before she had time to react, he was releasing her, setting her back on her feet. "Thank you," he said hoarsely, "for not turning your brother away when he came looking for you."

Stunned all over again, she touched her lips, faintly acknowledging that the kiss had been the result of a severe emotional reaction and nothing more. Nodding, she tried to regain her composure, and said shakily, "I told you once that not all humans have forsaken your kind."

He nodded, smiling faintly. "That you did." He looked back to Oliver. "You visit once a month?"

Oliver nodded. "For a day and a night, every month."

"Then I shall save my own visit for another time," Jehann said firmly. "Your time with family is precious limited as it is… I do not wish to intrude."

Oliver blinked, still reeling from the unlikely and least expected of reactions they'd received from the mage, and managed to find his voice as the other man made to turn away. "Please," he said quickly, moving to block the mage's path, "you've travelled far today. There's no need to leave so soon."

Jehann was unconvinced. Glancing at Mairwen, he said hesitantly, "I have no desire to intrude on a family visit."

She waved away his protests, having recovered enough from his kiss to realize he was at risk of leaving, and said "Oliver is right… you've had a long day of travel. At least stay long enough to allow your horse some rest."

She knew full well what torture his horse put him through every time he forced it over the mountain, he thought, and his lips twitched, fighting a smile. "Then I will only stay for a brief time."

Oliver moved past them, leading the way back to the cottage, and said over his shoulder, "So this is the famous Jehann." He glanced to Mairwen. "My sister has told me much about you, sir mage."

Jehann blinked. "Has she now," he said, seeing her flush slightly. "And I'm sure most of it was derogatory."

Oliver chuckled as they settled around the table. At home, he leaned over and retrieved a third teacup from the counter beside him and set it in front of Jehann. Leaning the other way, he caught up the kettle, still warm from the fire, from the hearth and poured tea for the mage, smirking. "Indeed. She said terrible things about you, Jehann."

Mairwen gasped. "I've done no such thing!" she exclaimed, shooting her brother a sharp look as color rose once again into her cheeks. Entertained, Jehann leaned back in his chair, nodding his thanks to the other man as he lifted his cup and sipped. "And after all that work I put in," he sighed, unable to look up from his tea in fear of losing his forlorn expression.

Mairwen rolled her eyes. "Oh please," she drawled. "You act as if I'd been here holding my hammer to your head, forcing you."

His lips curved in a small smile as he glanced to her over the rim of his cup. "I've felt your hammer at my head, paladin. You're right, that particular pleasure was absent that day."

Oliver lifted a brow, glancing to his sister. "You've threatened him with your hammer?"

She waved it away. "I most certainly did. He came skulking about my property one night months ago and then fell out of the woods onto my tomatoes." Her eyes narrow, she looked at Jehann. "He's lucky I was feeling favourable that night."

Oliver winced and glanced to Jehan. "She's always been protective of her tomatoes, sir mage. You are indeed lucky to have escaped with your head intact."

Jehann snorted. "Lucky indeed. I'd almost have rathered she bash my head in… but no, instead she did something far worse." Eyes dancing, he saw Mairwen start to grin at the memory. "She threw her hammer to the ground and laughed like a fool."

Oliver chuckled, his grin spreading, his eyes dancing when he regarded his sister. "That was unkind of you, sister," he chuckled.

She laughed and pointed to Jehann. "Tell him the rest, mage. Tell him what I was truly laughing at."

Suddenly remembering the cow, Jehann clammed up, muttering "I can't quite recall the specifics."

She laughed again and looked to her brother, who was watching the play between the two with amusement and a sharp interest. "Fortunately for my forgetful friend here," she laughed, "I remember it perfectly." Biting her lip, she said, "He tripped over the cow and fell into the garden."

Oliver was speechless for a moment before he threw his head back, bursting out laughing. "Oh Jehann!" he laughed, slapping the other man on the shoulder. "That damn cow! I've hated that thing since mother brought it home from market as a calf and it ate my best hat!"

Jehann finally gave in and grinned openly, having found an ally in his unusual hatred for the bovine in question. "I can't say that surprises me… it's been my observation that it's a vicious creature."

Mairwen laughed again as Oliver patted Jehann's shoulder again in agreement. "Belle is no more vicious than I am," she laughed. Both men gave her incredulous looks, each remembering instances of experiencing the woman's temper, and she threw her hands in the air as they burst out laughing again. "Fine, laugh like idiots," she said defeatedly. "See if either of you ever step foot across my threshold again."

Oliver, winking to Jehann, reached out and covered his sister's hand with his own, his damaged fingers and wasted joints startling against the peach health of her own. "Ease off the hammers there, sister," he chuckled. "This visit could certainly have gone in worse directions than us making fun of your damn cow."

Lips twitching, she conceded his point. "This is true," she smiled. "Jehann here could have ran off to the Undercity with tales of a Forsaken deserter."

Jehann snorted. "And while I was there, I'm sure one of Sylvanas' first questions would have been to ask what I'd been doing on your property in the first place, to have noticed such desertion."

Oliver nodded. "Nothing slow about our Queen, that's for sure." He shot Jehann a warm look. "Well, if my sister won't thank you for the work you put in on her woodpile, allow me to… it usually falls to me every year when she procrastinates."

Jehann smiled. "Well then," he said, his voice rich with amusement, "if I'd known I'd be coming to the aid of a fellow Forsaken instead of a tempermental human, I'd have done it sooner."

Unoffended, Mairwen chuckled. "For future reference," she teased, "he usually has to till the garden after the last frost every year as well… he gets tired of listening to me whine about it."

Jehann, without thinking, responded quickly, his voice warm. "It's a lucky man indeed who can file something away for future reference where you're concerned."

He fell silent immediately, stunned at the words that had accidentally spilled out to lay between the three of them. Mairwen was still, looking caught between pleasure and unease, and Oliver let his eyes slide to the tabletop, his brow lifting sharply and his lips tightening, his suspicions about the other man neatly confirmed. Not sure how he felt about a fellow Forsaken showing romantic interest in his sister, he fell back on his steady, patient nature and chose to remain silent for the time being.

Jehann recovered quickly, lifting a hand. "Or perhaps a suicidal one, if you intend to make me use that cow when I do the tilling."

She smiled shakily, relieved to be moving back onto easier ground when she still had no idea how to respond… he'd basically voiced his pleasure at the knowledge that he'd still be spending time with her in the spring, and with shock and unease, she realized how much she wanted that as well. Worse, that the thought of discontinuing their friendship had never occurred to her before now.

It seemed having him in her life was as natural as breathing.

That was all fine & good… but what if the day came that he was no longer in her life?

He was looking at her, obviously waiting for her response, and she replied in kind. "Of course you'll use Belle," she said tartly. "She's a fine cow and more than strong enough to drag a plow through the garden."

Jehann sighed, draining his teacup. "Then I'd best spend the winter working on my defensive spells."

As she smiled, he rose, nodding to Oliver. "My thanks for the tea and the invitation," he said, bowing slightly. Oliver stood as well and nodded, holding out a hand. "It was a pleasure meeting you," Jehann continued. Glancing to Mairwen as she rose, he said, "You only have to look at our fellow Forsaken to know how fortunate you are, Oliver."

"Indeed I do," Oliver agreed, sliding an arm around his sister's shoulders. "She is extremely rare."

Jehann turned to Mairwen and paused, feeling awkward still, before nodding somewhat stiffly. "I'll take my leave and let you two visit," he said politely. "Thank you for the tea."

She nodded hesitantly, wanting to speak but not sure what she should say. It seemed ant-climactic and unfair to him to allow him to leave on silence after the awkward slip of the tongue earlier, but try as she might, she couldn't formulate what she wanted to say, how to ease his injured pride.

Probably because she didn't know how she felt about the mage in general, she realized, and the thought that her feelings were in flux meant that they'd started to change… if someone had asked her two months ago how she felt, she'd have told them she felt pity and affection for him.

Now, pity had ceased even making appearances on the list. And the affection appeared to be in flux, changing form.

She was spared replying when he bowed to her, touched his fingertips to his forehead in a small salute, and moved past her into the night.

Oliver looked to her, not saying anything, by all appearances simply waiting. She blinked. "What?"

Exasperated, he turned her bodily towards the door. "Go after him, girl."

"What!" she sputtered, as he gave her a nudge for good measure. "To what end!"

He rolled his eyes. "Both of you need to face what's growing between you and decide what to do about it, Mairwen. Otherwise this friendship could wither and die in light of embarassment and unvoiced thoughts." He gave her an impatient look. "By the Light, sister. And I thought I was the one with their brains rotting away."

She shot him a look, not affected by his insults… as her brother, even death apparently could not free him from the obligation of insulting her at every opportunity, and instead she conceded his point. If she allowed Jehann to leave awkward and embarrassed, he may never come back at all… and she very much wanted him to come back, however unwise or confusing that fact may be.

Making a frustrated noise, she turned away from her brother and followed the mage out into the dark.

Jehann was untying his steed's reins from the poplar branch when he heard her voice calling his name. Tensing slightly, he schooled his expression into one of mild interest and turned back to the property, watching as she crossed her garden below him and immediately began climbing the bank to join him.

Manners insisted he assist her, and so he bent, reaching down and offering his hand. She immediately gripped it and allowed him to help her to the top, and she was startled by the easy strength his deceptively thin body was capable of.

He pulled her to his side and looked down at her, opening his mouth to ask her what brought her back out into the dark… and realized she hadn't released his hand, was in fact tightening her grip on it, her lack of repulsion for his wasted fingers giving him a rush of unconscious pleasure.

Surprised at her continued contact, he met her eyes in confusion. Suddenly aware that she was still holding his hand, and was in fact seconds away from linking their fingers without thinking, she flushed pink and released him quickly, taking a step back.

He stared at her, awareness spreading over his face as he correctly interpreted her reaction. By the gods, he thought breathlessly. I do think she's attracted to me.

The thought was laughable, and his mind instinctively tried to disabuse the notion, but it persisted, stubborn. Not sure how to respond to what he suspected was true, he cleared his throat. "What brings you out here into the dark, Mairwen?"

She cleared her throat, grateful that he'd broken the silence. "I… I thought the visit ended rather poorly."

He nodded slowly, watching her closely. The last thing he wanted was to increase her discomfort… not when her ease around him was such a gift. "Yes, I thought so too," he finally said slowly, when it was clear she was struggling with her thoughts. "It felt somehow wrong to leave without giving you the customary insult about your livestock, for example."

He watched with pleasure as she smiled slowly, her eyes dancing in relief and amusement, and was glad she was so easy to tease into relaxing. She nodded, apparently satisfied that things were right between them again, and started to turn away.

Something in her thoughts had her stopping, though, and turning back. Watching her closely, barely able to breathe, he blinked when she leaned forward slowly and wrapped her arms around him, giving him every chance to back away.

He stood stiffly, shocked and confused, as she embraced him… and realized she was giving him a hug.

The thought of being embraced in a hug was almost his undoing, and as his arms came around her in return, he realized he hadn't received a hug since he'd been human. His breath escaping him in a shaky exhale, he tightened his arms and gathered her close, feeling her warmth spread as she settled flush against him. He was trembling, emotion leaving him dazed, and without thinking he rested his chin on the top of her head, tucking her into him neatly.

They remained locked together for a few more seconds, eyes closed, before she cleared her throat and relaxed her grip. As he straightened, looking down at her with intense eyes, she smiled shakily. "I'll see you next time, mage."

He nodded, the corner of his lips lifting in a small smile. "Stay out of trouble, paladin."

With a final long look, she turned away and retreated back to her cottage.

Jehann waited until he heard the door close softly before he turned back to his steed, throwing his leg over the saddle and hoisting himself into it, trying to process the change that had occurred between the two mismatched friends that night.

Meeting her brother answered so many questions he'd had about her, and caused infinitely more problems. For one thing, he no longer wondered how she knew Orcish… obviously, her brother had found it easier to teach to her than Gutterspeak, and it was much easier to learn than Common, the human tongue. Yes, Orcish would have been the most logical choice if they were to communicate.

He also now knew, for certain, just what it was about her that had her accepting his undeath so easily. How could she judge a man for sharing the same fate as her brother?

Ever since he'd joined the Forsaken, he'd heard tragic, heartbreaking stories of families that had turned away their cursed loved ones because of their undeath. Unwilling or afraid to believe that the Forsaken were not Scourge, were free of the Lich King, so many newly awakened Forsaken were met with violence, hatred, revulsion. So many of them returned to the Undercity newly broken, newly bitter, filled with a terrible anger that had no direction to go except to the living that had rejected them. Jehann had never, in fact, heard of any Forsaken fortunate enough to find a welcoming, relieved family when they returned to their homes. Not until now.

Mairwen had not turned her brother away in hatred and horror when he'd come pleading with her to recognize him, to believe him when he told her he was really her brother. She had given him what every Forsaken secretly craved: understanding and love from their families.

By the Light, he thought suddenly, how could I have possibly avoided falling in love with such a human?

He closed his eyes on a groan as his horse rejoined the road and turned towards Hillsbrad. No, he thought firmly, nothing good can come from feeling like this.

The thought had him remembering Himotep's warning, so long ago, that to seek her out would eventually lead to the ruin of them both. He wondered glumly just what pearls of wisdom his friend would have for him if he knew that he'd fallen in love with a human… and to complicate things further, tonight she showed signs, unbelievable as it was, of at least returning his attraction, if not his feelings. Oh, he could hear Himotep now, could see the perplexed look on his face. Himotep was nothing if not in complete control of his emotions, and Jehann doubted very much if the warlock would understand how it truly was possible to fall in love without meaning to.

Jehann shifted in the saddle, mulling. The bottom line, as unpleasant as it was, was simply this: their feelings for each other were really beside the point. The point, when you scraped away the emotional turmoil, was that to be with her romantically was to place her at risk. Their friendship was already placing her at risk as it was, he knew… if his people ever learned that he was on friendly terms with a human, they wouldn't stop at punishing him… no, to prove a point and to set an example, they'd make sure she suffered as well.

That was unacceptable.

So, he thought to himself, all I need to do is refrain from letting whatever 'this' is grow into something beyond friendship.

Now if he could only erase the memory of that sound, smacking kiss he'd planted on her, he'd be all set.


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 9

Present Day

When Mairwen returned to conciousness over an hour later, the light was failing in the clearing. The small fire Jehann had set was established and by the looks of it, had been burning for some time, casting its light in long streaks across the dim space. Behind her, she heard Echo whicker softly and shift, his bridle making a soft clinking sound as it slid along the bone of his nose, and she rolled her head toward the fire, seeking her companion.

The act of turning her head caused no pain, and she frowned slightly, startled. It had been so long since she'd actually been free of pain that the absence of it left her feeling almost incomplete… the pain had been so constant and so severe, and she'd lived with it for so long, that instead of feeling whole and healthy, she felt almost empty.

Not that she was complaining, she amended silently. She could very happily get accustomed to moving without pain again.

Jehann's form was dim, seated as he was on the other side of the fire, and she relaxed when she found him with her eyes. From her vantage point it seemed they were alone in the clearing, but she was currently too comfortable to bother looking around for Patrick… he was no longer threatening to her. She couldn't see Jehann's eyes in the dusk light, but she could make out his form, and smiled sleepily. "Hail, mage."

He felt the corners of his mouth tilt in a small smile and he nodded, gratified to hear no rasp to her voice anymore. "Hail, paladin."

Still smiling, she stretched, freeing her arms from the blanket she was covered in and reaching above her head, feeling her muscles stretch and lengthen without complaint. Sighing in pleasure, she looked to him again. "I feel so… different," she exclaimed. "It seems I had lived with so much discomfort that I had ceased to notice it. Until now… until it was gone."

Jehann regarded her quietly. "Then our young priest did indeed put you back together."

She tested her arms, sitting slowly and leaning back on them. "It would appear so." Looking around, she lifted a brow in question. "He's left?"

Jehann nodded, leaning forward to stir the fire. "Half an hour ago. He used his hearthstone to return to the Sepulcher."

She nodded speculatively. "I would have liked to thank him." Looking to Jehann, seeing his face illuminated in the firelight as he poked the embers, she remembered her revelation before she'd fallen asleep and wondered, with a twist in her heart, how she was supposed to act as if she didn't feel the way she felt. She'd never been very good at deception… nor had subterfuge or subtlety ever been easy for her.

And now, she'd lost the neutral refuge of her poor health… by the feel of it, as soon as she started eating real food, she'd start to regain her strength. And once that began, it wouldn't be long before she was sufficiently well to forge ahead on her own, releasing Jehann from the constant risk he was taking by travelling with her.

Jehann, meanwhile, was oblivious to her sobering thoughts, and smiled. "Patrick knows you appreciate his work," he assured her. "He also wanted me to extend to you his wish that you lead a long healthy life… that you'd be doing him a disservice after all of his hard work by dying before your time."

Snorting gently, she chuckled. "I suppose I'll have to try to accommodate him," she drawled, sitting up fully and facing the fire. Extending her hands, she splayed them before the flames, letting the heat sink into her, warming her to the core. She glanced to him. "You mentioned earlier that you had bought food?"

He paused, then gave a harsh laugh as he stood and moved to Echo,

rummaging in the saddlebag. "I did indeed," he said wryly, returning to her and kneeling. Handing her the small package, his lips curved. "And then promptly forgot all about it. My apologies."

She smiled, taking the food from him and unwrapping it. He'd procured dried meat, real baked bread and several bottles of melon juice, but what had her gasping in delight was the fruit. She hadn't had fresh fruit in longer than she could remember, and immediately sank her teeth into a bright red apple, sighing in pleasure. Mouth full, she looked to him and rolled her eyes appreciatively. "Heaven. Thank you, Jehann."

Amused, he stood, returning to his spot across from her. "I wouldn't push my conjured bread on my worst enemy," he admitted, and she laughed softly around her second bite. The apple was tart and delicious, and better, her stomach accepted it easily.

As she ate, Jehann fought with himself. He had so many questions to ask her about what she'd been up to over the past 7 years, but all of them would inevitably lead back to the past… there was only so far back he thought it wise to go, lest he be cornered into letting her see what was in his heart, and he wasn't willing to risk that.

However, there was another face that had frequented his thoughts over the years, almost as much as her own, and finally he spoke softly. "Mairwen… what's become of Oliver?"

She paused, looking down and swallowing her bite. "Oliver fights in Icecrown for your Queen."

Surprised, Jehann lifted a brow. "Indeed? I never thought of him as the fighting type."

Her lips curved bitterly. "No, he's not. He was content in his work in the Undercity… training aspiring rogues satisfied him. No," she sighed, passing the apple core to Echo and smiling when it was gratefully accepted, "his deployment was not voluntary."

Jehann's eyes sharpened. "Not voluntary?"

"No," she said calmly, looking across to him steadily. "The best we could come up with when he received word that he was to relocate is that someone in the city had noticed his monthly absences… and assumed he was entertaining a cross-faction affair." She smirked… the smile held no warmth. "Or, worse, that he was feeding information to the enemy. And since your kind generally feel that everyone is the enemy, even other members of the Horde, the possibilities were too strong for your Queen to ignore. They couldn't prove anything, of course… and as a trainer, he was in a secure enough position to avoid execution. Since that option was denied them, however, they did the next best thing and sent him to Icecrown to fight in your Queen's name."

Jehann was fascinated to hear of the fate of his old friend. "I guess I always assumed he was still visiting you," he admitted. Somehow the thought that her brother still visited had eased the pain that he himself wasn't, and learning the truth now was disconcerting.

Her smile turned sad. "Oliver hasn't been to visit me in over 5 years."

He blinked, shocked. "He's been gone that long!" he exclaimed. When she nodded, he fell silent, processing the news.

She'd been alone for 5 years?

Guilt warred within him. It had, after all, ultimately been his decision to sever the friendship… he'd done so with the security that Oliver, as her brother, would always be there for her.

A sudden thought had his eyes closing in frustration on her behalf. As a human, she wouldn't be notified if he was killed in the line of duty… so for all she knew, he'd been dead these past 5 years.

And she'd never know differently unless he walked into her cottage himself.

His eyes narrow in frustration, he said, "You should have gotten in touch with me. I could have kept you aware of your brother's fate."

She sent him an incredulous look and snorted. "Forgive me, Jehann," she said drily, "but surely even you can see how I might have hesitated in contacting you."

He paused, flushing slightly. Of course she would have, he thought tiredly. The last time they'd spoken, he'd asked her to never seek him out. Suddenly feeling like an ass, he shot her a strangely apologetic look. "I would have considered the fate of your brother a worthy excuse to reach out," he said stiffly.

She shook her head, weary. "I promised you'd never hear from me again. Not even Oliver's fate could allow me to forget that." She shot him a look from out of the corner of her eye. "Besides… when he was first sent away, my pride stung still after our last meeting. And by the time enough time had passed to sufficiently soothe it, I had more or less accepted that he was most probably…" she stopped talking, the hoarse sound to her voice belying her claim that she'd accepted her brother's likely death. Falling silent, she cleared her throat and looked away.

He studied her carefully. "You reached out to me in the Undercity," he felt the need to point out, and she flushed slightly, shifting awkwardly.

She sighed deeply, resigned, and met his eyes. "I know," she conceded weakly. "And the fact that I was not in my right mind does nothing to ease the guilt I feel now." Her eyes stricken, she swallowed. "I regret it and apologize from the bottom of my heart. I never meant to cause you any inconvenience."

Stunned, he blinked, before her words sunk in and he felt a flash of irritation. "Guilt? Regret?" The thought that she regretted asking for him hurt more than he cared to admit. "I would never have expected my presence to cause you such negative emotions." His voice clipped and hurt, he made to stand. "If you're able," he said shortly, "Southshore is still several nights of travel ahead of us. We should be on our way."

"Jehann," she said sharply, stopping him in mid-rise. "Sit down."

Eyes narrow, he paused before easing himself back to the ground, facing her. She was sitting up straight, glaring at him. "Feeling sorry for yourself will not help anything," she snapped. "I feel justified in my regret… after all, I've gone 7 years refraining from getting in touch with you. The fact that I was weak enough to do so in my previous state does little to ease my conscience."

He was frustrated. "Mairwen, you're not a stupid woman by any means. Surely even you can see there might have been extenuating circumstances that rendered my last request beside the point."

She shook her head. "I'm afraid not." When he made a frustrated noise, she felt a rush of anger rise in her chest… she'd been stifling her anger with him for 7 long years, and seeing him trying to avoid taking responsibility for their mutual silence over the years was more than she could handle. "You made it perfectly clear," she said hotly, "that you wanted nothing more to do with me. You never wanted to hear from me again." Eyes hot and angry, she snapped, "If you're finding that decision difficult to live with now, Jehann, I'm afraid I can't be sympathetic."

He was startled by the anger in her voice, but he met it with his own. He'd spent 7 years angry at himself for his weakness… first in falling in love in the first place, later for his weakness on those long nights when he came so close to returning to her. Hearing her voice spelling out one of his biggest insecurities was grating.

He held himself stiffly. "I made that decision," he said carefully, keeping a tight rein on his anger, "because it was the right thing to do."

She made a scoffing sound, throwing her hands in the air. "You made that decision on behalf of us both!" she cried. "Not once did you ask me what I thought, what I felt, and heaven forbid, what I wanted! You knew best, as you always do, and now you're feeling that maybe you were a bit harsh? That maybe you missed important events in your friends' lives because of your pig-headed paranoia? Too late, Jehann," she spat. "You're 7 years late coming to your senses, and you have no one to blame but yourself."

His face was held so stiffly, his shoulders pulled back so far, that she wondered how he didn't shatter into a million pieces. Taking a long, shaky breath, he said very quietly, "I did what I felt to be the best thing for us both, Mairwen." His voice was tight and trembled with the effort to contain his anger, and she recognized how truly close he was to losing his temper with her.

Good, she thought viciously. It was about damn time they'd had it out.

"You did no such thing," she said harshly, pointing to him. "You did what you had to do to protect YOURSELF. Because the Light forbid you find some stolen happiness in this world!" Her voice was rising, fraying at the edges as tears threatened. "And there I was, the foolish little human who simply didn't understand the way the world worked! Such an excellent excuse you had to hide from life! If the paladin was too naïve to understand, then I guess you'd better make the decision for both of you. Is that about how it went in that rot-infested brain of yours?"

His control stretched another inch and for a moment, she thought he'd manage to keep hold of it… and then it snapped.

Coming to his feet in a graceful rush, he glared down at her, his glowing eyes flashing in anger. "You have no idea the sacrifice I made to keep you safe," he said hotly, watching her brows snap together in anger at his words. He held up his hand. "Let me finish," he said sharply. "It's hardly fair to rip me a new one without allowing me the same privilege."

Despite herself, she felt a flash of amusement sneak through the anger, and she settled reluctantly. "I doubt if you're capable," she muttered. "Your insults were always sub-par."

His eyes narrowed. "I don't intend to insult you," he snapped. "Unlike you, I feel no need to sling barbs when the truth will suffice."

Her eyes narrowed further and he continued smoothly, breathing deep to maintain control over his voice. "Now," he said with deceptive calm, "I stand by my decision seven years ago. I did what I had to do to ensure you were safe."

She snorted. "To ensure your own safety, perhaps."

He glared at her and turned away, feeling the fire warm his back. "My own safety," he said tightly, "has never been much of a concern to me. Yours, on the other hand," he continued, turning back to face her, "quickly became my top priority."

"My safety," she repeated tightly. "That has nothing to do with my happiness." When his head whipped around to her, startled, she glared at him defiantly as she took advantage of his surprise to continue. "After all our times spent together," she said defiantly, "I would have hoped that my happiness would have become a priority as well."

He was stunned to hear her acting so… well, so self-righteous. Her voice bordered on petulant, and he faced her, forcing himself to be patient. "Mairwen," he said tightly, "you speak as though we were a couple… as though we were romantically involved." He swallowed. "That was not the case."

"As if I need to be reminded of that yet again," she muttered. "I'm well aware of the nature of our 'relationship' the day you left, Jehann."

The conversation, as far as he was concerned, had crossed over into the faintly ridiculous, and he snorted, laughing sharply. "Mairwen," he laughed, knowing his laughter would do little to soothe her temper, "a romantic connection between us was the last thing I wanted."

He was about to continue when he saw her face. The color in her cheeks, high with anger, quickly drained, and she took on a haunted, beaten look. Snapping his mouth shut, he suddenly cursed himself for being so carelessly cruel, and made a tentative move towards her.

She shied away, the movement slight but enough to have him stopping helplessly. Her eyes slid from his face to the ground and she felt an odd mixture of shame and embarrassment. She cleared her throat. "I… I know."

He watched her carefully and she lifted her eyes to meet his. "I know you never wanted me that way," she said softly. She paused, then sent him a small, defeated smile. "But I can't apologize for the fact that I felt differently."

He groaned, turning away again. God DAMMIT, he thought harshly, screwing his eyes closed. He'd always been grateful to her that she'd never put voice to the feelings he'd suspected she had… it had made it that much easier to pretend that things between them were strictly platonic.

Apparently all bets were off, he thought shakily, if she were putting voice to them now.

The fact that they couldn't be together hadn't changed, he knew. Now or 7 years ago, the facts were still the same. But perhaps it would be better to face this situation honestly, to finally face it together.

"You're wrong," he sighed wearily, not turning back to her. Her silence asked him to continue. Swallowing, he continued. "The fact that we couldn't be together had nothing to do with the fact that I didn't want to be. To be honest," he sighed, turning back to face her, "I thought of little else."

Her brows drew together as she watched him approach. Lowering himself to the ground beside her wearily, she shook her head, her anger gone. "Then why," she asked softly, her voice plaintive, "did you leave? If you felt the same way?"

He looked over to her, meeting her eyes, and his lips twisted ironically. "I could easily picture myself in your life," he said. "But when I pictured you in mine, tied to a Forsaken… I didn't feel I had the right to force that life on you." He shook his head, drawing his knees up under his robes and wrapping his arms around them. "You deserve far more than the life I could give you."

She shook her head, perplexed. "Jehann… don't you think that might be my decision to make, and not yours to make for me?"

He sighed. "In this case," he said regretfully, "I'm afraid not. I had to do what I felt I needed to do in order to ensure you the best life possible. Being with me wasn't it." He met her eyes quietly. "Nor has that changed."

She knew she should be angry with him all over again, but she simply didn't have the energy. Healed she may be, but she was still weak, and apparently still had little strength for confrontations as emotional as this one was. Instead, she spoke quietly, drawing his eye. "How big of a fool you must think me."

Lifting a brow, he tilted his head. "Despite your belief to the contrary," he said, "I think you're neither a fool nor stupid."

She shook her head. "Your actions speak otherwise, Jehann. To think me so short-sighted, so blindly smitten, that I would want you blindly with no thought to the consequences, speaks for itself."

He started to speak, but she held up a hand. "Please," she requested softly. "Let me finish, and then we can be on our way."

Reluctantly, he nodded, closing his mouth, and she continued. "I've spent the last 7 years wondering just what I'd say to you should we ever meet again, and I've never really known what my words would be. I always assumed I was the only one who felt the way I did, and assumed that you'd left because you'd seen how I felt and were embarrassed." She met his eyes. "I knew you could never give me things a human man could… children, for instance." Her lips curved sadly. "To be honest, I was unsure I wanted to bring children into this world of strife anyway… but I was aware of your limitations. You're not even a member of my faction, and by allegiance I'm sworn to kill you should I get the chance." She huffed a laugh, shaking her head. "But we're only little people in the midst of a war between the greats, Jehann. And as little people in a time of strife, we have an obligation to find happiness wherever it presents itself." She lifted her shoulder. "Despite the obstacles standing in our way, despite all the reasons you tell yourself, I still believe that."

He was unsure how to respond, knowing the precipice he stood on now. Hearing her acceptance of the limitations he came along with was difficult… he'd spent years telling himself that if she'd only thought things through, she'd never have cared for him the way she did. Knowing he was wrong, again, was a bitter pill to swallow, and he suddenly wondered how different the last 7 years would have been had she thought to force him to see her feelings, instead of allowing him to hide in ignorance.

He remained silent, staring into the fire. It was full dark now, and he knew that in the spirit of expediency, they should have been on their way half an hour ago.. But still he remained, locked in indecision and memory.

He was startled when he felt her hand touch his, and looking down, he watched as she twined his fingers with her own. Lifting his gaze, he met her eyes and saw she was smiling gently.

"You always did think too much," she said teasingly, squeezing his hand. "Can we, before we abandon this topic, at least admit that we've missed the other?"

He huffed a silent laugh, the understatement huge. He'd been bereft since he'd left, and 'missing' her seemed a pale way to phrase it.

He nodded, smiling faintly. "Agreed."

She smiled and slid closer, laying her head on his shoulder, tightening her grip on his hand. The old discomfort at the thought of her laying her head to his exposed shoulder bone was a faint echo in his heart, more of an automatic reaction than anything tangible, and he lifted his other hand, pressing her cheek to his robes in a small embrace.

She lifted her hand and laid it over his, holding his palm to her cheek, and closed her eyes. She felt his fingers tighten imperceptively on her cheek and felt his strong jaw graze her forehead, his breath gentle on her hairline as he rested his cheek to the top of her head.

It was as much as he knew he should allow himself, but the act of simply holding her close again was enough to have his head swimming. He felt her breath, warm and elevated, on his collarbone where the neck of his robes parted, mingling with the heat of the fire, working to warm him in a way he hadn't felt in years. Electric heat ignited inside him, as if he were conjuring fire in his veins, and as she slid closer, he not only let her come, but pulled her closer until she was resting fully against him.

She tilted her face, unconsciously seeking him, and when their lips met, they came together as naturally as if they'd been kissing each other for years.

Jehann's breath caught in his chest when her lips found his and for one long, agonizing moment, he fought himself, a part of himself shrieking at him to stop what he was doing, to set her away from him and do whatever it took to regain the distance between them.

Oh by the gods, he thought suddenly, relief flooding him as he pulled her closer, just let me enjoy this… just once, let me enjoy this. I'll deal with the repercussions later.

Mairwen was trembling violently, waiting for the inevitable moment when he'd win the fight with his self-control and push her away, and was gratified when he pulled her closer, holding her in a tight embrace and lifting her chin with his fingers. With a sharp intake of breath, she felt the subtle pressure of his fingertips on her chin and unconsciously opened her mouth before she realized what he wanted.

Before she could react, his tongue was in her mouth, cool and tasting of spice, and she gripped his shoulders as his kiss claimed her. There was nothing sweet or romantic about this kiss they shared… rather, it was the result of 7 long years of longing, an expression of love and desire that they'd never had the chance to express, and it swept them up in a tide of passion. Kissing him back, she leaned into him, claiming his lips as surely as he claimed hers.

He shuddered when she actively kissed him back, obviously feeling none of the disgust he'd always told himself that she would when she felt his cool tongue on hers, when he pushed hands partially bereft of flesh through her mass of hair, tilting her head back. In the heat of the moment, he felt a surge of giddiness sweep through him and heard her breathing increase sharply when his fingers traced over her neck.

It was when her lips trailed down his jawbone that he came back to his senses and realized his fingers were playing with the ties at her neck, very close to unlacing the front of her tunic. Knowing if he did that, he'd be unable to rein in his passion before he did irreparable damage, he groaned harshly in what felt like physical pain and wrenched himself away, breathing heavy.

She looked to him, startled, and he groaned again, the image of her tormenting him. Her hair was dishevelled, her lips swollen, her eyes cloudy and unfocussed, her chest rising and falling quickly. "By the Light," he rasped, scrubbing his hands down his face and willing his traitorous body to calm the hell down so he could think straight.

He may never be capable of giving her children, he thought wildly, but he was more than capable of the act involved, and never had he expected to actually resent that small blessing.

He did now… and envied the unfortunate members of his race who'd been Scourge so long that the physical act of intimacy was no longer feasible.

Her eyes cleared slowly and then widened, the color rising in her cheeks. Sliding away from him slightly, she cleared her throat, searching for something to say that would break the awkward moment. "Well," she finally settled on, "glad to see we're on the same page."

He snorted, dropping his head into his hands and laughing helplessly. "I almost ravished you," he laughed, relieved that she was choosing to lighten the moment. "By the gods, Mairwen, I almost acted like a barbarian."

Her lips curved, amused, and she patted his shoulder. "I was there too," she reminded him with a wry smile. "I recall some amount of participation on my part as well."

Still chuckling and feeling his adrenaline rush ebbing, he took a long, steadying breath. "That," he said firmly, pointing at her, "cannot happen again."

For once, she bit her lip and nodded. "I understand."

He nodded, relieved that she was finally seeing sense. If they hadn't stopped when they did, he had little doubt how the encounter would end, and as strongly as his heart may have wanted that, the rest of him understood that when the time came to say goodbye, they didn't need the heartache of ending a physical relationship as well as an emotional one. As it stood, the inevitable day of their parting loomed ahead like a dark cloud, and it was merely her company that he was anticipating missing.

Sharing intimacy with her on top of the emotional bond they felt would be wonderful and liberating, he knew. But living without it, once he'd left her behind, would be unbearably hard.

He glanced to her as he doused the fire. Her face, drawn and thin, was pensive and serious, and he knew she was thinking along the same lines as he was. Grateful at not having to explain, but grieving the necessity of such thoughts, he laid a hand silently to her shoulder in a show of unity before he called Echo over.

Swinging up onto the saddle, he leaned down, gripping her elbow as she gripped his own. Hauling her up behind him, he was again startled at her slight weight, and passed another piece of dried meat over his shoulder once she was settled. "Eat," he commanded, and she snorted, amused, as she took the meat. "Yes SIR."

Lips twitching in wry humour, he waited until she'd started the meat and then clucked to his steed, prompting him to start heading back to the road. Silent, they left the clearing behind, the remains of the fire still steaming slightly.

As her arms came around his waist and he laid his free hand over her joined ones silently, she rested her cheek against his back and thought of the kiss they'd shared.

Now that he was no longer studying her, she felt safe enough to smile. Eyes closed and a smile on her lips, she dozed off, leaving Jehann to his tumultuous thoughts.

This was inevitable, he knew. Their attraction, their love for the other, had been there between them for as long as he could remember, and he'd been a fool to believe he could withstand the temptation she presented now that they were forced into each other's company once more.

He set his jaw, gritting his teeth and tightening his hand over hers possessively. How the hell was he supposed to just leave her behind? He'd always felt pride in his success when he'd left her behind the first time… he couldn't have imagined anything more difficult at the time, and he'd stood against the pain, secure in his knowledge that he was doing what was best for her.

But now, after sharing the mos potent kiss he'd ever had? He'd kissed others in the past 7 years, had had other women in his bed for brief periods, but never had he felt anything close to the passion that had sprung up between them tonight.

It absolutely couldn't happen again, he knew. To kiss her again would be to throw all common sense out the door. The battle would be lost, and they'd be forced, broken, to pick up the pieces when the day came to say goodbye.

Because the day to say goodbye was coming, he knew, and despite what was said tonight, it hadn't changed the fact that he still had every intention of doing what was right and letting her move on with her life.

He took a shuddering breath and urged Echo into a fast gallop, wanting only to eat as many miles as he could while she slept… after all, every mile closer to Southshore was a mile closer to escaping this twisted labyrinth, and it was far easier when she slept, when she wasn't inadvertently reminding him that there was still, after all this time, a part of himself questioning the sanity involved in leaving her behind a second time.

As Echo's hooves pounded down the road south, Jehann fell backwards in time and once again saw himself in his mind's eye back at her cottage, during happier days when troubles such as this had only barely begun to plague them.


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 10

7.5 Years Ago

Contrary to his good intentions, over the next few weeks Jehann had a hard time keeping his vow. Having never been in love before… at least, not that he could remember from being alive… he was dismayed to discover that one simply didn't turn the feelings off like snuffing a candle. Though he hadn't been back in 3 weeks, he couldn't stop thinking about her, and though he'd resolved to stay away at least until after her next tour in Southshore, his resolve broke one morning a week before she was due to leave and he set out before dawn.

His coin purse was almost sufficiently heavy to purchase a warhorse, and it was this knowledge that gave him uncommon patience with his rickety horse that day. The cranky beast huffed and groaned his way up the mountain pass, doing its best to make Jehann's trip as miserable as his own, but Jehann merely laid a hand to the steed's coarse, sparse mane and murmured placating words. Dissatisfied with the reaction, the horse fell into a resigned silence around mid-morning and the mage was thrilled to realize that not paying attention to the beast's complaints was by far the quickest way to quiet him.

Since he'd left before dawn, he came into view of her garden around 2 hours past the noon hour and stopped, scanning the property for signs of her. Swinging out of the saddle when he saw her own steed tethered in the stable (she wasn't far, wherever she was), he tethered his horse and walked to the edge of the embankment that looked down on her garden.

He spotted her immediately and smiled. Par for the course, she hadn't heard his approach, and he took the moment to view her in pleasure.

She was gardening, he saw, and was on her knees between the rows, pulling weeds. She wore thin robes of green linen, the scoop neckline falling off of one shoulder, exposing the skin to the sun. Her hair was piled messily on top of her head and then shoved under a wide-brimmed hat, shielding her face from sunburn, and as always, she wore no shoes.

He tilted his head, feeling a quiet rush of possessiveness sweep through him, startling him. Looking down at her in her garden, oblivious to him, she seemed impossibly perfect, and the thought of anyone else being welcomed to view her in such a relaxed state had his gut tightening.

He reined himself in tightly. You're her friend, he thought firmly, and nothing more. You hold no claim to her.

As he brushed aside the underbrush and started the short descent into her garden, her head came up, startled. Pausing, she smiled slowly, a flush rising in her cheeks as her smile grew.

No, he thought again, basking in the warmth of her unspoken welcome… I hold no claim to her. But that doesn't mean I don't wish it could be different.

She settled back on her haunches, taking off her hat and fanning herself, squinting up at him as he approached. "Hail, mage."

Smiling faintly, he nodded. "Hail, paladin."

They'd fallen into the joking habit of using the other's occupational class as a form of identification when they were teasing, and it had a warm, familiar feel to it. Dropping to one knee, he inspected her work thus far, and then simply picked up where she'd left off.

She chuckled and accepted the help willingly, moving to the next row and starting over. "And what brings you here on this fine day?" she asked, smiling and resettling her hat on her head as she worked. "You must have left early, to be here so quickly."

He nodded, pulling weeds. "Aye, I set out before dawn. As for what brings me here," he smirked, glancing to her, "I heard a rumour that there was a garden in need of weeding. And I'm nothing if not prompt in meeting my duties."

Snorting, she shook her head, amused. "Indeed… well, as much as I appreciate the help, I have to point out that you're obviously listening through the wrong grape vines." Her eyes dancing, she glanced to him. "After all, surely there are more interesting grape vines to be listening to? I mean really, Jehann… gardens?"

He chuckled, shrugging. "The other grape vines don't interest me, I'm afraid."

She laughed again and they fell into a comfortable silence, each finding their own rewards in working side by side. The work went quickly with both of them at it, and when the last weed had been pulled, she stood stiffly, extending her hand to him wordlessly, helping him to his feet.

As he rose, she squeezed his hand affectionately and then released him, turning away. "Come inside," she said over her shoulder. "I need something to drink and I'm sure you could use something as well."

Nodding his thanks, he followed her inside, removing his shoulder armor and his cloak in the process and leaving them by the door. Infinitely more comfortable without the cumbersome armor, he settled at her table and accepted the glass of cold tea with a small bow. Smiling, she settled across from him, taking her hat off and brushing the stray hairs that had escaped their bindings from her forehead.

He looked to her. "Tell me about your brother," he requested, and saw her smile. Glad the subject was a happy one for her, he relaxed back into his chair and tilted his head as she shifted.

"Well," she smiled, "he's older then me… by 4 years actually. It was only the two of us… my mother could carry no more children after she had me, and I'm told she almost died during my birth." Smiling crookedly, she lifted a shoulder. "According to Oliver, I continued to cause trouble for my parents well into my 6th year or so." She chuckled at his puzzled look. "I got into a lot of trouble," she explained, amused.

Jehann grinned. "Now that I can't imagine," he teased, and she smirked before continuing. "Oliver was training to be a rogue under one of the trainers in Stormwind City when Arthas' army attacked, forcing the king to send as many troops as he could… apprentices included." She swallowed and her gaze slid to the tabletop as she played with her glass. "Oliver was deployed to what's known now as the Plaguelands to join the army. I'm not certain how long he was able to fight before he was killed… even he has a hard time remembering… but when he fell, one of Arthas' necromancers immediately raised him to join the Scourge."

Jehann was silent, remembering his own story of how he came to be Forsaken, and finding himself knowing exactly what the other man had gone through. She continued, "The next thing he remembers is waking up from a dark nightmare, a dream from which he recalls nothing except the feeling of constant horror and pain."

Jehann nodded. "It is our greatest gift," he said hoarsely. "That we cannot recall the atrocities we committed before being liberated."

She nodded, in complete agreement. "Aye, it's a blessing to be sure," she said fervently. "Truly, I don't know how many of you could refrain from going mad if you hadn't been spared those memories."

He snorted. "A great many of us still do, sadly," he commented, and then gestured for her to continue. "Please, don't alow me to interrupt."

She nodded and picked up where she's left off. "Apparently, when Olley woke up, he was told by your Queen all that had transpired, and what was expected of him now. He was told to not bother trying to find his family, that they wouldn't welcome him back and to spare himself additional heartache." She bit her lip and met Jehann's eyes. "He almost obeyed… all around him were Forsaken with similar stories to tell, that they or someone they knew had attempted to re-integrate into their families and found them either slaughtered, or found themselves staring at the business end of a sword when they tried to retrn home. And he was so afraid to be met with the same reception from me that he waited almost a year before he sought me out."

Jehann nodded, silent. She sighed, reaching up and removing the pins from her hair, running her hand through it restlessly. "Anyway," she sighed, "I had just received the right to call myself a paladin and was in the midst of looking for permanent lodgings, something to call my own… our parents' home had been trampled by Scourge and my parents themselves had relocated to a small stead in the Redridge Mountains." Her eyes were sad, but it was an old pain and one she was obviously accustomed to. "I was living in Goldshire, renting a room at the inn, when I received a letter from Olley asking me to meet him in secret."

She lifted her head suddenly as a thought occurred to her. "One moment," she said, rising, and as he watched, startled, she entered the back room, a room he'd never been in before. He assumed it was her bedroom, and wryly figured that was one room he'd never see the inside of. He was indulging himself with all sorts of unlikely thoughts regarding that room when she re-emerged with a folded piece of parchment in her hand. Passing it over, she smiled. "This is the note he sent me."

He took it, startled. "I'm honoured," he said simply, surprised at the level of trust she was showing him. Smiling, she simply gestured for him to read it so she could finish her story. Unfolding the paper carefully, he saw a bold script, the ink starting to fade from age.

"_My dearest sister,_

_I can only imagine what you're feeling right now, reading words from the dead. I know you've been told that I was lost, that I died almost a year ago during a fight with the Scourge, and I'm sorry for whatever grief this news caused you. Please know that I wanted to come find you immediately after being liberated from the Scourge… unfortunately, fear and propaganda kept me from doing so._

_You see, Mairwen, when I was liberated from the Scourge, I joined the ranks of that race we heard about only in whispers. I had come to reside in the old ruined kingdom of Lordaeron, known as The Undercity to those of us who lived in it. We're called the Forsaken, and I've been trying to adjust to this new existence._

_I guess being undead isn't as bad as it could be… I once again have my free will restored to me, though my memories of being human are elusive. Even my old language comes difficult to me… I paid a neutral third party to translate this into Common, in fact. But I needed to reach out to you._

_I'm asking you for one hour… no more than that, if you do not wish it. But please, sister, for the sake of the years back when we were happy and healthy… please, if you can manage it, meet me in the neutral town of Booty Bay in one month's time. I have a room rented here and will be staying here for the next couple of months, training under one of the Horde rogue trainers in the area. No one in this town will notice or care if they see us speaking… it seems to me to be the best possible option if you're willing to see me._

_The room is 209 in the Salty Sailor Tavern. It would bring me great joy to open my door to you in a month._

_I miss you, sister. I was beyond relief and joy to hear that you're still alive and well. As am I… in a sense. But I've come to understand that there are different levels of existing… being Forsaken is only one of them. I assure you, I am very much myself._

_Hoping to see you soon,_

_Your brother,_

_Oliver._"

Jehann set the paper aside and felt an od mixture of sadness and joy… sadness in imaging the strength and courage it must have taken the other man to write that note, knowing that the odds were good that he'd be rejected… and joy because he obviously could guess the outcome of their meeting. Nodding to Mairwen to continue, he passed the paper back, watching as she re-folded it absently.

She looked to him. "He was right… I was both shocked and frightened to be receiving a missive from the brother whose death I had only just begun to adjust to. I had spent a year in grief, my parents far away, and receiving his words and his request filled me with indecision and suspicion. At first, I thought it a cruel trick, but could call to mind on one who could possibly hate me enough to be so heartless. And then I considered the possibility that it was a trap… I had heard rumours that the so-called Forsaken were driven in their desire to swell their ranks, and the stories of families turning away their Scourge brothers and sisters all said the same thing… that they were chased off or killed to prevent other members of the family being slaughtered."

Jehann lifted a brow, amused. "Good heavens, I hadn't realized the rumour mill had gotten quite so out of hand on the human side since I left."

She smiled faintly, but her heart wasn't in it. "Ignorance is a plague just as much as the diseased grain that brought our downfall," she whispered, referring to the plague of Undeath that had claimed so many souls… eventually leading to Arthas' own fall into darkness in his struggle to defeat it. Jehann nodded, his smile sliding away. "I agree. Forgive me… I know this subject is not as easy one for you."

She waved away his apology dismissively. "No need, Jehann. Suffice it to say," she continued, "I was currently staying in the village of Goldshire, just south of Stormwind City, and while Booty Bay was on the same continent, it was a long journey. I only had another week to mull over my decision before it would be time to disembark… so I spent the week deep in thought." She smiled faintly. "I went back and forth between intending to go and refusing to even consider it so many times that in the end, I think it was my own impatience with my indecision that convinced me to go. I set out at dawn 2 weeks before we were to meet, and I arrived 3 days early." She smiled. "Having never travelled farther south than Goldshire, I couldn't even rent a griffon to save time and fly… having never been there, I could hardly guide a griffon to the town, so I was stuck travelling the slow way… on horseback, following the road signs."

Jehann nodded, seeing her in his mind's eye. She sighed silently and went on, "The day I arrived in Booty Bay, I spent the better part of the afternoon simply finding the inn in question… I found it a very complicated and needlessly confusing city." Her lips curved. "I still do, to be honest, but it was built by goblins, and their priorities have always been commerce and profit, as opposed to aesthetics. Once I found the inn, I didn't even allow myself to rent a room… for all the effort I went to to get there, I didn't honestly expect to find my brother there, despite his letter. I couldn't allow myself that much hope."

Jehann shook his head. "You're very brave," he observed quietly, and she smiled faintly before finishing her story.

"I went to the room indicated and part of me was hoping that, if he WAS in the city, that he wasn't in… that I'd somehow missed him, and could leave with the clear concience that at least I'd tried. But when I knocked, I heard movement inside the room. And just when my courage was about to fail me and I was about to flee, he opened the door."

Tears stood in her eyes at the powerful memory and she smiled. "And my worries simply… vanished. Yes, he was different… he was broken, and stooped. His flesh was pale and dry and his joints had become exposed. His eyes… they glowed." She met Jehann's eyes. "But his eyes glowed gold, and were the eyes I remembered underneath. His shock at seeing me at his door early had him speechless for a moment, and it gave me the time I needed to recover from the shock at seeing him so… changed. And then," she sighed, "he hugged me, and everything was ok between us."

She stood and started moving around the kitchen, agitated. "The very thought," she said hotly, "that I could have turned him away in hatred, or attacked him in fear of my life, was ludicrous. And I was immensely grateful to your Queen for restoring him to me."

Jehann smiled slightly. "As nice as the sentiment is," he said, "I do hope you didn't contact her to thank her yourself."

Mairwen smiled, shaking her head. "No… but I wanted to. Oliver wouldn't allow it… that was the first time I'd realized that your kind are brought into the world with an unfailing duty… to make war with the Alliance."

Jehann nodded. "Aye… it's one of the first things we learn. We're taught to trust no one… and to avoid the living as if being alive were a contagious disease. Even our fellow members of the Horde… the Orcs, the Trolls, the Tauren, the Blood Elves… they're all tainted with the curse of life and we're not to trust them, no matter how badly we may need their aid."

Mairwen shook her head. "Politics. Honestly."

He chuckled, realizing she was right. "Aye… politics. That's a very accurate way to describe the relations between the peoples of the world."

She sighed, resettling herself at the table. "Oliver was the one who helped me to procure this cottage," she said. "He knew what I was looking for, and now I had another condition to my living space… it had to be private enough to allow him to visit me on a regular basis without too much fear of discovery. Politics and alegiances aside, neither of us felt any leader, his or my own, had any right to tell us we couldn't keep in touch with family. Once he'd begun teaching me the rudimentary basics of Orcish, and learned of what I was looking for, he remembered hearing while in the Undercity that a prominent member of the Scarlet Crusade had had a small stead on the shores of the Alterac Lake. Aparently all three members were murdered… the man while he was at work in the Monastery, his wife & her father here." Mairwen shrugged. "The land was reclaimed by the king and put up for sale. I put in a bid and because of its remote location, I won."

She waved a hand, indicating the property in general. "And here we are."

Jehann lifted his glass, saluting. "And here we are."

He was just setting the glass down on the table when a sound outside had them both looking to the other, startled.

Mairwen's horse was screaming.

She went pale and immediately reached into the corner beside the hearth, catching up her massive war hammer and setting her jaw. "Stay here," she said tightly. The sounds of male laughter could now be heard outside as her horse continued to scream in agitation, and as she swept out the door, Jehann reached to his back and freed his staff, feeling its comforting weight between his hands as he blithely ignored her orders and followed, stopping on the threshold and taking in the scene before him.

Three men wearing black clothing and red scarves covering their lower faces were entering her property, one of them laughing harshly and stopping long enough to taunt her horse. She stepped out onto her front yard, her shoulders braced and her huge mace raised threateningly. As they caught sight of her, she called, "No closer, gentlemen, or the Light help me, I'll make sure your next step is your last."

One of them laughed and looked her up and down slowly, obviously anticipating an entertaining hour in his near future. "As you can see," he drawled, gesturing to the other 2, "you're outnumbered, paladin. There will

be no resistance this time."

Jehann's eyes narrowed at the man's implication that others had tried assaulting her in the past, and without hesitating, he stepped out beside her.

It was hard to tell which was more startling to the 3 members of the Syndicate… that she had company in the form of an obviously capable mage… or that the mage in question was undead. "Forsaken!" one of the men hissed, his eyes narrowing in disgust and hatred. Jehann inclined his head, not understanding the man's language but understanding the emotion behind the word, and without breaking eye contact, he laid a hand to Mairwen's shoulder and gestured to the three men. "Shall we deal with them?" he asked in Orcish.

She smiled tightly when the three shared uneasy looks… obviously, none of them understood the Horde tongue, and she nodded. "Jehann, you're simply full of good ideas."

That was the only encouragement he needed, and with a harshly spoken word, he looked to the lake and cast an appeal to the water itself.

With shock, the three men saw the undead mage make a complicated gesture and bark a word. At first, they didn't think whatever spell he was casting had worked, and had just started to relax when one of them gasped in horror and pointed to the mage's feet.

There, under his feet, the ground had begun oozing pure water. As they watched, the trickle became a gush, and then a fountain, the water reaching higher and higher, slowly changing shape as it did so. As the mage stared them down, before him the spout of water took shape, and in a matter of seconds, the odds between them were evened out.

Between the human and the Forsaken was a water elemental, frothing and churning, the embodiment of the most violent river. The 2 companions quickly grew damp as the frothing elemental shifted restlessly between them, but neither of them seemed surprised, and suddenly the members of the Syndicate wondered if maybe this entire excursion was worth the risk.

They'd expected a lone human woman… instead, they'd found her, a Forsaken mage, and his elemental pet.

It wasn't exactly what they'd had in mind when they'd set out.

Jehann studied his elemental closely, fascinated despite himself. "Would you believe," he said casually to Mairwen, "that this is the first time I've had a chance to try this spell?"

Her brow lifted. "Indeed? Very well done, sir mage. He looks more than capable of evening the odds."

"Yes, I thought so as well," Jehann said, and with that, he released his control on the pet. Without pause, it immediately started pelting the Syndicate with sharp bolts of freezing water, startling them sufficiently enough to allow Jehann to start casting his own spells.

As Mairwen charged in with her hammer swinging, Jehann stood back and casually threw frost into their midst, freezing them in place, making escape impossible. Their boots coated in rime, the unfortunate men were fused to the ground, and before they could even form a semi-organized defense, Mairwen's hammer rendered all of their struggling moot.

Once it had begun, the fight itself was pitifully short. Unlike the day Jehann had fallen into Mairwen's garden, he was now more than capable in strength and ability to deal with a few members of the Syndicate, and with a paladin and a water elemental at his side, he wasn't surprised when they offered little resistance.

Satisfied that the soaked bodies lying on the ground were truly not getting back up, Jehann turned to his pet and murmered the incantation to dismiss it back to the lake. Instantly the elemental fell apart, crashing to the ground, soaking his boots, before it sank into the ground and vanished.

Mairwen, meanwhile, was leaning over the bodies, checking for signs of life. As Jehann reached her side, she looked to him. "They'll live."

He nodded, satisfied. "That should suffice, then. I'm sure they'll think twice about returning."

She nodded, biting her lip and wracking her brain. "What should we do with them?" she asked. Jehann thought for a moment and then leaned over, sharply slapping one of them across the face.

The man moaned, his eys fluttering open, and Jehann gripped his chin firmly, forcing him to look him in the eye. "Get out," he snarled, causing the man to pale even further and shrink back… not understanding the language didn't mean he couldn't understand tone of voice, and as his companions slowly came around, he grabbed them and urged them to their feet, talking weakly and rapidly in Common to keep them moving.

Mairwen waited until all three were straggling their way across her lawn before she called out, "If you or any of your friends come back, sir, I assure you, I won't stop next time."

She got no response, though one of them could be heard cursing under his breath… though that could have been due to the fact that he had just realized he was suffering from frostbite in late September. Jehann watched them go, turning away only when they'd gone far enough for him to deem them a safe distance.

Mairwen was watching him, smiling, clearly amused, and when he lifted a brow, she chuckled. Turning back to her cottage, she said idly, "You're a useful man to have around, mage."

The corner of his lips curved in a lopsided, pleased smile, and he shrugged. "For all I knew," he joked, "that spell was a dud."

She laughed again and led the way back into her cottage.

Later that evening, when the sun had gone down and the fire in her hearth was slowly shrinking, casting long shadows in the room, he looked to her where she sat on the floor by the fire, mending the hem of one of her tunics. The needle flashed red in the firelight. "Will you be alright to sleep tonight?" he asked, tilting his head. She smiled and nodded, and he made to stand. "In that case," he said, rolling his shoulders, "I'll retire to the garden and let you get your rest."

She set her sewing aside and frowned slightly, obviously worrying over something, deep in thought. Amused, he watched the wheels turn in her head and finally said, "You look terribly concerned at the thought of getting some rest, Mairwen."

She met his eyes, startled out of her reverie, and smiled back, seeing the humour. She waved away her worries and said, "You head on out. I'll be right there."

Intrigued, seeing as how she'd never followed him out before, he nodded and went outside, heading back to the garden and claiming his usual spot up against her house. He'd become quite fond of this spot, he realized as he drew one knee up and cast his eyes up to the sky, seeing the moon peeking over the treeline. The strip of soft grass separated the house & garden by about 7 or 8 feet, and the ground was wonderfully free of lumps and stones. She obviously looked after her property.

He looked to the corner from where he'd come when she came into view and raised his brows in surprise. She had a blanket draped over her arm, and for a moment he was disappointed… he'd come to enjoy waking up in the morning, knowing she'd thought to cover him over through the night.

He forgot his disappointment when he saw the cushions she was carrying under the blanket, however. As she reached him and shook the blanket out, passing him one of the cushions and tossing the other to the ground, he said, "What's this?"

His voice was faintly suspicious and she smiled, mentally refusing to be self-conscious or embarrassed. "I won't have you sleeping alone in the dirt," she teased, "and inviting you into my bed didn't seem like the most appropriate suggestion." Eyes dancing as she lowered herself to sit beside him, she teased, "The last thing I wanted was to send you into a heart attack."

He was thrown off, awkward and trying to find the right words as she joined him in his position, drawing a knee up and looking to the treeline for the moon. He followed her eyes, knowing he'd think more clearly if he wasn't looking at her. "This is unnecessary," he protested, but his voice didn't hold much conviction… to be honest, he was rather carefully enjoying her sitting beside him. Extremely aware, however, of the caution he needed to take to keep her from seeing just how much he was enjoying having her there, he continued in a neutral tone. "And how do you supose I feel, knowing that because of me, you're now feeling obligated to sleep on the hard ground?"

She waved that away, smiling, clearly not concerned with how he felt. "I'm hoping you'll simply accept it, since it's not about to change," she chuckled. "And since I doubt if you're willing to listen to your horse's ridiculous complaints should you wake him, I imagine that once you give the standard protests, you'll settle down and get some rest."

Amused, he shifted and muttered, "That damn horse. His retirement is fast approaching."

Laughing, she shook the blanket over them both and shifted lower, resting her head on her cushion and looking up at him. "Restful sleep, Jehann."

Looking down at her, he smiled when he saw her eyes close and risked patting her shoulder. "And you, Mairwen."

With that, he slid lower to join her on the ground, and lulled by the sense of security he always felt when he rested on her property, he fell into a light sleep.

They slept for the next few hours in peace, neither moving as the night breeze and the smell of the herbs in her garden gave them the best rest either had had in ages. The night was quiet, the quiet sounds of the lake's edge as it kissed the shore the only sounds reaching them, and when Jehann drifted out of his doze some time later, he was warmed when he realized it had been a long, long time since he'd woken so relaxed and content.

Looking to his right, he watched the paladin sleeping beside him impassively, safe in the dark to let his emotions roam over his face. She had curled towards him, the thin blanket doing nothing to disguise the beautiful curve of her hip, illuminated in the moonlight. Sighing silently, Jehann felt a thread of sadness slip through him as she breathed deeply in her sleep, realizing for the first time the magnitude of the emotion that had developed between them.

The small things she did for him, the looks he sometimes caught her sending him, the smile that she reserved apparently only for him, that warm one that was gentle and spoke of such deep affection… with a mixture of happiness and sorrow, Jehann realized for the first time that night that the human was as in love with him as he was with her.

His eyes fell closed and his expression turned slightly pained, his lips thinning as he struggled to control his emotions. Knowing that she loved him was a gift beyond anything he'd ever expected so many months ago when he'd initially sought her out. He was so completely humbled by her regard for him that for a few minutes, all he could do was lay there basking in the sensation of being loved, knowing that when he left her in the morning, he'd be missed, thought about, perhaps even yearned for the way he missed her, thought about her, and yes, yearned for her when they were apart.

Their visits were far too infrequent to suit him, he thought, shifting carefully so as not to wake her. By necessity, they could only see each other roughly once every two months… he didn't dare make the trip more than once every month she was home, in case someone in Tarren Mill got a little too curious for their own good and questioned him… or, worse, followed him. He was now a well-established member of the community and people noticed now when he was gone overnight.

Thank the gods I'll be moving on soon, he thought. He had almost exceeded the training that the mage trainers could offer him there, and would have to return to the Undercity soon to inquire about the best place to continue the next level of his training.

The thought of moving beyond Tarren Mill was difficult, however… once he left Hillsbrad, he left Mairwen as well, and looking back to her sleeping form, he felt his chest tighten at the thought of leaving her behind.

There was nothing to keep him in the Alterac Mountains except for her, he knew, and if he remained in Tarren Mill for too long, people would start to wonder why such a capable mage, who'd been learning and growing so quickly, would choose to stagnate in a village that no longer had anything to offer him. Leaving was an unfortunate reality, he knew.

He stared up at the moon, its thin light illuminating his features. If Mairwen were to wake now, he knew, she'd be waking up to a stricken man, and he was extremely grateful that he wouldn't be called upon to answer questions as to why he currently could not control his emotions.

I've never been in love before, he thought yet again, looking back to her and studying her closely, reverently. How can I possibly leave her behind?

How can I possibly stay?

The thought gave him pause, and he was forced to concede the point. How could he stay indeed, knowing how she felt? How could he allow her to make a decision that would ultimately waste her young life? He knew her well enough by now to say with confidence that if he shared his feelings for her, she would be quick to ask him to stay, to make a life with her.

Loving her the way he did, he could never allow her to make that decision, to ask that question. If she did, he'd be powerless against it, and before he knew it, he'd be ruining her life.

The life they'd have together kept interrupting his rational thoughts, making it difficult to be reasonable. Gritting his teeth, he admitted that for him, it would be something close to paradise… the chance to make a home with a woman he loved, the chance for some normalcy, he could see it all so clearly. Starting each day with her beside him, ending each day by blowing out the candle and showing her in every way imaginable how much he loved her, making sure she never, never had to defend her home alone again. Expanding the garden, adding onto the cottage, looking after their home during her months away, welcoming her home.

For him… paradise.

For her? Prison.

To make a life for herself with a Forsaken, no matter how much that Forsaken had come to love her, no matter how much she might love him in return, meant giving up on so many dreams that he knew every human woman had a right to. He could never give her children, and the thought of someone as warm and loving as herself never knowing the joy of being a mother was unthinkable. She could never, ever tell anyone about him, about their lives together, could never accept visitors without worrying about them finding her lover inside.

She saw the good in everything, he thought, his eyes still tracing over her features. And she would see only the good in a potential union between them.

That meant it was up to him to see the reality for her.

The revelation was painful, and he wrenched his eyes away from her, gritting his teeth. By the Light, he thought harshly, why did she have to be so obvious in her feelings for him? He could have managed to keep their relationship on an even keel if it were only his own feelings he needed to control… but hers as well?

No, he thought tiredly, he had to take control of the situation before she ended up actually sharing her feelings with him. If he didn't, he'd be powerless against her, and the knowledge that he could never truly deny her anything was the final nail in his proverbial coffin, sealing him into his fate.

With something that felt suspiciously like heartbreak, he waited patiently for daybreak and tried to ignore the tiny voice inside him that was still calling him a fool… but for different reasons this time.


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 11

Present Day

By the time Mairwen drifted awake, they'd been travelling for over 4 hours and Jehann had managed, by going back and re-examining his memories, to convince himself that he was right.

Jaw set and back stiff, he nonetheless found a small measure of comfort in the knowledge that he'd set her free once before… he could do it again.

He felt her yawn sleepily against his back and push herself upright, prompting him to release her hands to allow her freedom of movement. Hands sliding back to rest lightly on his hips, she looked around sleepily. "How long have I slept?"

He glanced up at the sky, gauging the position of the moon. "Roughly 4 hours," he said. "We just passed The Sepulcher."

She frowned lightly, thinking back and trying to judge, from her memory, just where they were on the map. "Then we're likely only a few hours away from the Greymane Wall."

Remembering the place where they'd initially met, he smiled faintly. "Correct."

She nodded, studying his back, head tilted. His voice was short and clipped, his stance stiff, and with resignation she guessed that while she'd slept, he'd managed to find all sorts of reasons why the kiss they'd shared was a terrible mistake. By now, she figured, he had more than likely managed to rein his feelings for her under tight control once again, and she rolled her eyes.

It would be ten times more difficult to get another kiss out of him, she figured.

She could understand, in an objective, almost clinical way, why he felt the way he did. If he felt the same way about her that she did about him, he would feel very protective of her, and she'd seen first hand what his people were capable of. Thoughts of how much worse her torment could possibly be if her tormenter actually WANTED her to suffer were… daunting.

But she was also unable to resolve their feelings for each other with the ending he obviously saw for them… she couldn't understand how two people who cared about each other could expect the other to simply forget. To simply move on and leave the other behind.

He's an ass, and that's that, she thought, somewhat bitter. A stubborn, complicated ass.

She was about to descend further into a sulk when he suddenly stiffened. "Pull up your hood, Mairwen. Hide your face."

That could only mean one thing, she knew… someone was approaching. Her heart pounding, she reached back and gripped the hood of the wool cloak he'd bought for her, pulling it forward and hiding her face. As Jehann drew his horse to one side of the road, she rested her cheek to his back and turned her face towards the woods to her right. Whoever it was would have to pass on their left, effectively hiding her from view.

It wasn't long before she heard the faint sound of approaching hooves, and she tensed. "Pretend I'm ill," she whispered, thinking up a reason why his passenger would be slumped against his back, and he made a low noise of agreement, spurring Echo to greater speed as they approached the oncoming threat.

Mairwen, eyes screwed shut, couldn't see the traveller approaching, but their oncoming hoof beats assured her that they had yet to pass them. Wondering idly in her head what manner of traveller was meeting them, she felt as though she'd had ice thrown into her veins when the other traveller, a female, hailed Jehann.

She spoke Gutterspeak… meaning they'd come across another Forsaken. Screwing her eyes even tighter shut and wishing she spoke the language, with dismay she felt Jehann slow the horse as he answered the woman.

Jehann, on the other hand, had relaxed slightly. The oncoming traveller was a young Forsaken girl, and young Forsaken were usually easily intimidated into moving along when faced with a seasoned veteran. He watched as she raised a hand, reining in her rickety steed. "Hail, mage."

He slowed as well, not stopping outright but allowing Echo to slow to a steady walk. Judging by her armour, she was a mage as well, and he nodded, touching his forehead in a brief salute. "Hail, lady. How can I help you this evening?"

The woman laid a hand to her mount's neck, letting him rest. "I come from the province of Hillsbrad," she reported, brushing her bangs from her face. "Our base at Tarren Mill has been attacked, sir. When I saw you heading in that direction, I thought to warn you."

He lifted a brow, slowing Echo further and ignoring Mairwen's involuntary stiffening against him. If this young mage could give him information about the road ahead, he intended to take the chance to hear it. "I appreciate the warning," he said, "but I am easily several days' ride away. I'm sure whatever attack was being waged when you departed will be long since resolved by the time I arrive."

She looked doubtful and shifted in her saddle. "In most cases, I would agree," she said, and for the first time, her voice betrayed her anxiety about the situation. "But the assault was evenly matched when I fled, and a day ago I was forced to hide in the forest to allow a large contingent of Alliance soldiers passage." Her face twisted at the thought of having to hide, but Jehann approved of her caution… she was by far too young to withstand an attack, and hiding in the face of a greater enemy was the smartest decision she could have made.

He nodded gravely. "You made the prudent choice, mage. Had you been foolish and thought to challenge them, the Forsaken would have lost a promising young mage."

Flushing at his praise, she straightened in her saddle and saluted. "Yes sir. Thank you, sir." Pausing, she looked back the way she'd come and then met his eyes, her face dark with anger and hatred. "It's the humans of Southshore," she said tightly, rage in her voice. "The attack came from the south, and several from that initial wave wore the Southshore Guard colors."

Jehann, face grim, released his breath on a low growl. He'd defended Tarren Mill from the Southshore Guard several times years ago, and had come to understand that the humans were just as capable of brutality as the Forsaken were. Shaking his head in frustration, he muttered, "By the Dark Lady, you'd think that 2 bases 2 hours apart could ignore each other successfully."

The young mage snorted. "Unlikely, sir. I've been posted to Tarren Mill for almost 2 months now, and this is the third attack I've seen. Though this one," she said coldly, "was obviously intended to be the final one. I have never seen so many Alliance in one place at the same time, all working together towards the same goal." She swallowed and her voice cracked. "I fear the base is lost by now."

Her voice was haunted and she was obviously struggling with memories, no doubt of disturbing and violent images she'd been forced to witness, and Jehann felt regret that this young mage would not be allowed to remain in naivety any longer.

He nodded sharply, reining Echo quickly and getting him back on course. "I thank you for your report," he said, saluting her. "Travel quickly and safely, mage, and get word to The Undercity that there will no doubt be a need for a salvage team… or an assault to retake the base."

Honoured to be charged with a mission by someone obviously her superior, she saluted smartly. "Aye sir!"

Smiling faintly, he took in her young face, wondering if he'd ever been so eager to please. She had been unfairly ravaged during her time as a slave… her eyes were vacant sockets and her lower jaw was exposed. Her hair was pulled back into ridiculous ponytails on either side of her head, and the effect made her look even younger than he knew she was. She had to have been no older than 17 summers when she'd been killed.

As he encouraged Echo to continue, he said as he passed her, "Your name, mage? I'll put in a good word for you when next I'm in the Undercity."

She called back, "Tressa Duskhaven, sir! And thank you!"

He lifted a hand and then kicked Echo in the flanks, launching into a gallop and wondering just what waited for him at Tarren Mill after he'd dropped Mairwen off at Southshore.

Mairwen, still slumped against him, waited another few minutes before slowly straightening. Jehann was silent, his back stiff, and she knew whatever they'd discussed, it hadn't been good news. "…Jehann? What did she say?"

Jehann sighed deeply, worry in his voice when he answered. "Southshore has apparently launched a massive attack on the Mill. When she fled almost 2 days ago, the Mill was at risk of being consumed."

Mairwen winced. The fighting between the two bases was something she'd always hated, especially in light of the fact that every single Forsaken she saw butchering her people, every single Forsaken she knew was butchered in return, had always somehow had her brother's face. "Dammit," she whispered harshly, and tears gathered in her eyes. "I'm so sorry."

He moved restlessly. "You're hardly responsible."

She was agitated. "I feel the ridiculous need to apologize for my own people," she said tiredly. "Just as I'm sure you feel the need to apologize for yours. Pigheadedness and ignorance are not exclusive to only one side or the other."

"Agreed," he said fervently. "Unfortunately, not many of our peoples can lay claim to the same level of enlightenment as we can," he continued, almost teasing.

She smiled faintly and the sighed. "You'll be heading to the Mill."

It wasn't a question but a statement of fact, and he nodded. "I must. I fully expect the need for salvage efforts, unless the Alliance has inhabited the base by then. In that case," he said bluntly, "I will be returning to the Undercity and joining any efforts underway for retaking the base."

She bit her lip, worried. "You're talking about waging a war for a small base, Jehann."

He snorted. "Every 'small base' we have," he said tightly, "must be protected and coveted like gold, Mairwen. Tarren Mill is one of our most strategic bases, placed in an essential central location on this part of the continent. If Southshore were to claim it for their own, we would be driven completely out of the province, and would lose a very essential thoroughfare, way station and place of resource in the process."

She was silent, unsure if the base was worth massive loss of life… but she knew better than to argue with him. Instead, she slid her arms around his waist again, taking heart when she felt his hand rest over hers once again, squeezing gently. "These are sad times," she said quietly, almost to herself.

He squeezed again in agreement. "As they were 7 years ago."

She closed her eyes, saddened by the resignation in his voice. Feeling the need to give even a token argument, she whispered, "Not everything need follow the path you've set."

When he didn't answer her, she fell back into silence.

She'd seen him in this frame of mind once before, she she knew what it meant… he was preparing himself ruthlessly to leave her behind.

With a horrible, sad feeling of inevitability, she tightened her arms around his waist and screwed her eyes shut, unwilling to entertain thoughts of losing him again… but try as she might, she couldn't stop herself from making comparisons between today, and that day 7 years ago when he'd left.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 12

7 Years Ago

He was a coward.

Jehann glared at his reflection on the surface of the water. Casting his line into the small pond just outside Tarren Mill, he settled back once again to wait for the tug on his line as he mentally fought with himself.

I am not.

His mind laughed at him. Oh, but you are, it snickered. Why else would you have waited this long to return to her?

It hasn't been that long, he argued defensively. She's been on duty.

…Right, the sarcastic voice drawled. She went on duty almost 2 months ago. Meaning she's about a week and a half away from leaving again. And here you sit.

You're a COWARD.

Jehann winced, arguing becoming more and more difficult. His heart heavy, he thought back over the last 6 and a half weeks and felt like hanging his head.

He didn't know what to do.

He'd left that morning before she'd stirred, unable to stand laying there watching her sleep any longer. If he'd remained, if he'd allowed himself to see her smile in the morning light, he'd be lost… and so he'd snuck out like a thief in the night, being careful not to wake her. When she'd wake, she'd find the cushion beside her empty, his horse gone, and a flower resting beside her head.

He couldn't bring himself to not leave her even a small token of his regard for her.

Since then, he'd thrown himself into his training. He only left the base to work on his spell casting, effectively keeping the aggressive wildlife around the base in check while he built and expanded his skills. His work had paid off… last week, a small raid consisting of 4 Alliance attackers had descended on the Mill, and Jehann had finally been ordered to help defend, Darthalia finally deeming him worthy to stand beside her & the other accomplished defenders of the Horde. The Alliance had been driven off, losing 2 of their members in the skirmish, and though the Mill had suffered light fatalities as well, Jehann had been exhilarated.

But that victory also meant he no longer needed to remain here in Hillsbrad… he was now strong enough to move on, to seek surroundings and trainers that would provide him with more challenging tasks.

He'd put it off for 3 weeks, lingering in this place he'd called home for almost a year, and he couldn't lie to himself about the reasons why.

He was systematically destroying his peace of mind with this endless wait, he knew. The answers were not about to simply fall out of the sky, and he owed it both to Mairwen and to himself to decide his next course of action before much more time had passed.

Sighing, he drew his line back in and then re-cast.

He could afford another cast or two.

Later that evening, when the sun was sinking below the treeline and the shadows were long, Jehann was holed up in his room. Idly flipping through an old tome that Humbert had lent him, believing it would be of some interest to the mage, he was doing a better job of daydreaming than he was of actually reading when a knock on his door had him looking up, startled.

"Frostheart," a male voice called, "you have a visitor."

Jehann lifted a brow, rising from the small table and crossing to the door. Opening it, he nodded to the fairly new Deathguard who met him. "A visitor?" he frowned. "Who?"

"He wouldn't say," the man said, shrugging. "He's waiting for you downstairs. He's travelled far, by the looks of it."

Jehann nodded and stepped into the hall, closing his door behind him and following the man down the stairs into the large common room of the inn, scanning the room for his visitor.

He saw the demon first, and a grin broke out across his face when the imp spotted him and then reached up, tugging on the robes of his master and pointing. With pleasure, Jehann saw Himotep's head turn in his direction and the warlock rose, grinning widely.

"Jehann!" he called, beckoning him over. "Join me, my old friend!"

Smiling, Jehann reached out and caught the other man in a rough embrace, slapping his back before dropping into the chair across from him. The imp hopped onto the table between them and Jehann nodded to him, as well. "Zil," he greeted, and the imp nodded, row upon row of needle-sharp teeth showing as he grinned. Zil glanced up at his master, obviously showing none of the deference or intimidation most minions would show their masters, and commented, "He's no uglier than he was the last time we saw him, master."

As Jehann snorted, amused, Himotep leaned back and studied Jehann closely, idly lifting a hand and scratching Zildan behind the ears. "Well spotted, little one," Himotep said warmly, teasing the mage. "He's looking well indeed."

Jehann leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "What brings you to Hillsbrad, friend?" he asked. As far as he knew, Himotep considered his duties in battle to be complete, and by the time the two men had met, the warlock was happily rooted in the Undercity with no intention of ever travelling abroad again.

Himotep shrugged, smiling. "I was curious to see how you fared," he admitted, "and had need of travelling past this area anyway. I decided to stop in on my way through… I'll continue on my way at sunrise."

Jehann nodded, delighted. "Then we can't waste time with formalities," he said. "Tell me what's been going on in the Undercity since I left."

As Himotep settled back in his chair and launched into a report of all the local gossip, he studied his young friend, concerned. True, the mage had obviously grown in skill, and he seemed far, far less naïve and young as he had when they'd last seen each other, but his eyes were far older than they should be.

What had happened in the mage's life in the past 10 months that he would be so saddened?

Figuring he could bide his time and wait to find out, Himotep did his best to entertain the other man with silly stories from home… he got an especially good reaction from the mage when he told him that one of the Apothecaries had been caught 'celebrating his virility' with a warlock far younger than himself… apparently the man's wife, as undead as himself, was NOT amused, and had almost killed the poor misguided young girl with a potent Shadow Word spell.

Jehann laughed. "Remind me never to piss off a priest," he chuckled, thinking of the devastating effect a well placed Shadow Word could wreak on a body. Himotep grinned, happy to see his young friend laughing.

He'd missed him, he admitted wryly, watching as the younger man reached out and scratched Zil behind the ears. Jehann was the only person aside from Himotep himself that the imp could stand, preferring to remain in his own realm until he was called forth in the heat of battle… but when he'd heard just who Himotep was coming here to visit, Zil had insisted he be included. Amused and too fond of the tiny demon to refuse, Himotep had complied. Watching the two of them now, he was glad.

Jehann glanced over when Himotep leaned forward, his eys intent. "So," he said softly, drawing the word out, "how goes your… training?"

Jehann shifted, uncomfortable. The last time they'd parted, Himotep had referred to Jehann's quest to seek out the paladin as his 'training', and he knew that the term still applied.

Sighing, he glanced around. "Fancy a walk?"

Ten minutes later, Himotep settled on a log beside the same pond Jehann had been fishing in earlier, and looked up at the mage, concerned and filled with a sense of foreboding. As the mage settled next to him and picked up a stone, tossing it listlessly into the water, the warlock sighed deeply. "You found her, I assume."

It wasn't a question, and Jehann nodded, staring into the water. "I did indeed."

He glanced to his friend and was suddenly grateful for the chance to talk about Mairwen with someone he could trust. "I've been visiting her regularly."

And that explains the sense of imminent doom, Himotep thought resignedly, and shook his head, at a loss. "It… it never occurred to you the danger you were in? That you were putting both of you in?"

Jehann laughed. The sound held little warmth. "It occurred to me… it just came to me far too late."

Himotep's eyes narrowed. "Explain."

Expecting the worst, he was somewhat relieved when Jehan sighed and said "A few months ago, I realized I'd fallen in love with her." When Himotep nodded, not surprised, he continued, "Almost 2 months ago I started to suspect she felt the same way. And now," he said, throwing another stone into the water with more force than before, "I feel as though I'm responsible for two people's lives. No matter how badly I may want to allow her to make her choice, to choose to face the future together… my conscience will not allow it." He sighed deeply, his shoulders dropping. "I haven't been back since, and I'm torn between what I should do… and what I want to do."

Himotep snorted. "Your path is clear, Jehann. You're not her people anymore… in fact, her people would never allow such a union, even if she WERE careless enough to return your feelings." Trying to prove a point, he shifted, turning towards the mage and lowering his voice. "Jehann. If you think for one SECOND that her people would not have you executed for 'seducing and corrupting' one of their innocent daughters, and worse, a PALADIN, a champion of the Light… you're a fool."

Jehann said nothing at first, his mind working, and finally he said "To be honest, my own welfare hasn't worried me. I'm far more concerned with the quality involved in a life shared with a Forsaken." He closed his eyes. "I love her far too deeply to rob her of so much."

Himotep sighed mightily, resting a hand to his friend's back in support. "You always were a different breed of Forsaken," he said wryly. "You're the only one I know of who puts others before yourself… myself included."

He paused, then spoke again in a firm voice. "You know what you have to do, Jehann. You can never go back."

Jehann was silent, struggling with the thought of simply vanishing without an explanation. It seemed, after all they'd shared, a very cold, callous, typically Forsaken thing to do… and she'd spend the rest of her life wondering why he'd never come back, wondering if he were even still alive, wondering if he'd been caught and thrown into the dungeons…

No, he knew, he couldn't do that to her.

Suddenly understanding that his old friend really had no means to help him, Jehann nodded and forced a smile. "Thank you, old friend."

As the topic of conversation moved into more neutral directions, Himotep wasn't fooled.

When he rose the next day a few hours past dawn, he was told Jehann had left many hours before and hadn't expected to be back until dusk. With a heavy heart, Himotep left as well, somehow wishing he'd never stopped to check on the younger man… this kind of worry couldn't possibly be good for his health.

You're still a coward.

Jehann grit his teeth as he stared down into Mairwen's garden from the top of the embankment. He'd been standing there, concealed in the trees, for some time now, wrestling with himself, trying not to listen to the small voice inside him that was still insisting he was being unnecessarily hasty in his decision to leave her.

Yes, he thought finally, giving in. I'm a coward.

But admitting it didn't give him the courage he knew he needed, and with resignation he started the decline into her property.

The placed was quiet, no sign of movement drawing his eye, but her horse was still home, so she was doubtless nearby. Coming around the side of the house and deliberately stepping over the spot where they'd slept together almost 2 months before, he stopped when he came within sight of the dock.

His heart felt constricted when he saw her. By the gods, he thought, she's so beautiful.

She was sitting on the end of the dock, trailing her feet in the water and holding a fishing pole. Beside her was a small basket and as he watched, she reached into it and absently drew out a handful of raspberries, popping them in her mouth before returning her attention to the lake. She was wearing a pair of knee-length linen pants and a loose tunic, and her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail. There was nothing fancy about her appearance, nothing that suggested she'd put any extra effort into it that morning, but she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

He sighed silently and stepped onto the dock, the vibrations causing her to jump, startled. Whipping her head around, her face broke into a wide smile when she saw him, and she stood quickly. Brushing red-stained fingers on her pants, she approached quickly, starting to laugh. "You scared me," she admonished gently, and without hesitating, she embraced him in a hug.

His breath catching, he was helpless against her and wrapped his arms around her in turn, smiling faintly. "My apologies," he smiled, as she released him. She shook her head, her eyes dancing.

"None needed," she assured him, motioning for him to follow her and returning to the end of the dock. As he sat beside her, she continued. "I'm simply very glad to see you." She slanted her eyes to his. "It's been longer than usual… I had begun to worry."

He dropped his head. "I know. Again, I apologize. My absence was… necessary," he said, and this, at least, was the truth. Nodding, she picked up her fishing pole again and nudged the basket of berries closer to him. "Well," she smiled, "no matter… you're here now."

He was silent, and as she cast, she glanced to him. "How have you been?"

He sighed and decided he might as well take the plunge. "Mairwen, I… we need to talk."

She frowned, concerned, and immediately lowered her pole, shifting to face him. "Alright."

He hadn't thought this far, he realized, and cursed himself… he had no idea how to proceed. He was about to start trying, however, when her hand covered his and squeezed. Startled, he met her eyes, and she smiled gently. "Jehann," she sighed, "stop worrying so much and just say it. We'll figure it out together, whatever it is… it can't be as bad as all that."

Dammit, he thought wearily, and shifted. "See, that's the thing," he said hesitantly. "I… well, you've said yourself that I've grown in skill and ability since we met, correct?"

She nodded, smiling, and he continued. "In the time I've spent living in Hillsbrad, I've grown beyond what the trainers there can teach me." He paused, then said, "I need to move on. I'm… I'm leaving the Foothills."

There, he told that sarcastic voice inside him harshly. Call me a coward NOW.

Her eyes widened and she bit her lip, before she reined herself into control and forced a small, shaky smile. "Well…that's wonderful, Jehann!" she said, trying to stay positive. Leaning forward slightly, she teased, "So you're here to warn me that our visits are going to grow even more scarce, is that it?"

He regarded her, his face stricken, and slowly, she realized that wasn't why he was here at all.

"Oh Light," she whispered, her face going pale. "You're never coming back, are you?"

He looked out to the lake, the late afternon sun reflecting off the surface, and swallowed. "I'm afraid not, Mairwen."

He heard her take a deep, shuddering breath beside him, keeping herself under tight control, and she finally spoke in a choked voice. "But… but why? Why abandon this friendship? It's come to mean so much to us both, Jehann… why would you throw that away?"

He reached out without looking, and for the first time, it was him who reached for her. Feeling her latch onto his hand, he linked their fingers tightly and said nothing, only lifted her hand and laid a kiss to the back of it.

It was the kiss that was her undoing, and to her dismay, she felt tears slam into the backs of her eyes. As she swiped at her face with her free hand, she said, "I don't understand."

Her voice was tight, hinting at anger, and he understood… he was feeling it himself. He was about to speak when she said, her voice shaking, "And if I followed you?"

Her voice told him she was trying to tease him, desperately trying to hold onto some form of levity, but he responded with something close to panic. Meeting her eyes, he shook his head, stricken. "You cannot."

Frustrated, her watery smile vanished, to be replaced with a glare. "You seem to have thought this through very thoroughly," she said tightly. "Is this what kept you away for so long?"

He looked away and she didn't need his words to have his answer. She snorted, releasing his hand and standing. "So while I spent the past 2 months worrying about you, you were simply staying away until you could figure out how to tell me you never want to see me again." Shaking her head, she turned away resignedly, making her way back up the dock, not looking to see if he was following.

He wasn't… in fact, he knew if he followed her right away, he was at risk of falling to his knees and begging her to forget his foolish words, that he would be back, anything to make this damn day a little easier.

He heard her enter her cottage, but her door remained open, and once he'd collected himself, he stood and turned to follow her inside.

He stopped at the foot of her dock, however, the sight of her cottage in the evening light freezing him in place.

This would be the last time he stood here, he realized suddenly, and he dragged a deep breath into his wasted lungs, feeling as if he were breathing broken glass.

Everywhere he looked seemed to hold a memory, and suddenly, he knew he needed to finish this and be gone before he did something he'd regret later… or worse, something that SHE would regret.

She looked up from the table when his shadow fell across her floor, and his heart broke. Her cheeks were wet. Taking a deep breath, he said hoarsely, "Thank you so much, Mairwen, for everything you've given me."

He grit his teeth and forced himself to continue as she dissolved into tears again, burying her face in her hands. "I will…" he cleared his throat, and his voice broke. "I will never forget you."

Unable to stop himself, he dropped a kiss to the crown of her head, whispering, "Please… please don't come looking for me. Just… just live a long life and be safe, paladin."

As she continued to cry, he turned his back and made to leave. As he stepped outside into the dusk light, however, she had one question for him. Raising her ravaged face from her hands, her voice was thick when she spoke.

"Why?"

He sighed, coming to a halt. Without turning around, he said hoarsely, "Because some things simply can't last forever."

And as he left her behind, never looking back, he realized that the sarcastic voice inside of him had finally fallen silent.


	15. Chapter 14

**Chapter 12**

**Present Day**

**As the light grew stronger in the east, Mairwen dragged her mind from that terrible day with something close to hopelessness. She had worked so hard, for so long, to forget that day, and instead, it seemed as clear to her as if it had happened yesterday. Having the man in question right here, she admitted, didn't help… now that she was becoming healthier and was able to think clearly again, it was little wonder that she hadn't gone mad just by being close to him, something she never expected to be lucky enough to experience again.**

**At first, she remembered, she hadn't truly believed that he was gone, that he'd never come back. It took the better part of a year before she finally admitted it, and Oliver actually had to be the one who convinced her. He came for his monthly visit many months after Jehann's last visit with a report of how Jehann was apparently working hard for their Queen in Outland, apparently making quite an impressive name for himself in the process.**

**It was knowing that he wasn't even on her world anymore that convinced her, finally, that he truly was moving on.**

**The worst of it, she knew, was that she hadn't even admitted how she felt to herself until he was telling her goodbye. It was only then that she'd realized how deeply she'd come to love the mage, and she'd never been in love before… it seemed unfair and cruel to be robbed of it before she'd even been aware of it herself. **

**And he was gearing up to put her through it all again, she knew. Well this time she wouldn't make it as easy, she thought, setting her jaw and tightening her arms around him. He'll still leave in the end, but by the Light, she'd make sure she left a deeper impression this time.**

**Jehann felt her tighten her arms around him and almost groaned in frustration. Having her plastered to his back was bad enough, he thought sourly, and was a big enough test of his restraint… having her squeezing herself even closer was hell. He could feel the heat of her burning into his back clear through his robes, and he shifted, trying subtly to put even an inch between them.**

**He grit his teeth when she simply came with him, resting her temple to his back and sighing gently. Gods above, he thought sourly, this couldn't possibly get any more ridiculous… if this kept up, he'd be bent double over Echo's neck and she'd be draped over him like a second cloak.**

**Seeing some small amount of humour in the image, he started looking around for a spot to rest for the day. They'd lost time by having their fight by the fire, but he'd made up some of it through the night, and he guessed they had just under 3 nights to go before they'd be on the outskirts of Southshore.**

**3 nights, he repeated as he guided Echo into the trees. I can do 3 nights.**

**Mairwen, thankfully, was silent as they picked through the trees, and she slid off of Echo's back obediently when they reached a suitable spot. This clearing was much like the others had been, small and concealed, and she looked around without interest as he threw 2 bedrolls to the ground and made the preparations for camp.**

**Watching him, she knew he was eager to get away from her, and a small part of her felt ashamed of herself for wanting to make this ordeal even harder for him… but the rest of her was still reeling over his admission that he'd left her long ago because he'd come to love her.**

**Such idiocy, she reasoned, simply had to be needled a little bit.**

**Once he'd set up their bedrolls, he looked to her. "I need to gather wood," he said. "Are you strong enough to dig a small firepit?"**

**She nodded immediately. "Of course."**

**He nodded gratefully, turning and heading off into the trees, scanning the ground for deadfrall.**

**She looked around the clearing, trying to guage the best place for a fire. Knowing him the way she did, she knew he most likely intended to place the fire between them, but with him gone, the location was pretty much up to her, wasn't it?**

**Kneeling, she started digging.**

**When Jehann came back ten minutes later, he stopped dead, foreboding uncurling in his stomach. By the gods, he cursed silently, apparently it CAN get worse.**

**She'd done a good job on the firepit, he saw… the only problem was it was in the absolute worst location she could have chosen. Instead of between the bedrolls, she'd moved them closer together & dug the pit at their feet, which would keep them warm enough… but would also, obviously, place them uncomfortably close together.**

**He looked for her, intending to scold her, but his words died at his lips when he saw her. She sitting on her bedroll, cradling a trembling hand in her lap and looking bewildered and lost. Concerned, he dropped the wood into her firepit and knelt. "What is it? Are you hurt?"**

**She took a shaky breath and met his eyes, tears swimming between her lashes. "I'm so weak now," she said hoarsely. "I could barely dig the firepit, Jehann."**

**With that, she fell apart, dissolving into tears and burying her face in her hands.**

"**Oh, Mairwen," he sighed, settling beside her and drawing her close. She came willingly, leaning into him, and he held her as she cried. "It's to be expected," he said gently, brushing her hair from her face in comfort and tucking her head under his chin. "You need time to regain your strength… you expect too much of yourself to expect a full recovery overnight."**

**She sniffed against him and her voice was resigned and husky. "I know… I'm sorry."**

**He shook his head, sighing deeply. "No apologies necessary, paladin. I'm actually surprised your lack of physical strength hasn't brought this on sooner."**

**She snorted gently. "I had other things on my mind, I guess."**

"**Indeed," he said wryly, tilting his cheek to rest on her hair. "You will be frustrated for a long time to come… but you'll be safe, and you'll regain what you lost in time."**

**She closed her eyes, sighing deeply, tired. "Not everything, I'm afraid."**

**He lifted a brow, growing still. Was she referring to their friendship?**

**If so, sadly, she was right, and part of him was heartened by what he assumed was acceptance in her voice.**

**She pulled away, rubbing her face, and nodded to the firepit. "It's finished."**

"**I see that," he said carefully, and didn't even consider bringing up her choice to move the bedrolls… after her crying spell, he didn't want to instigate another, and so without another word, he set the wood ablaze with a sharply spoken word and an extended palm.**

**She sighed when the warmth of the flames reached her and extended her hands, warming them. As he settled back beside her, digging in his bag and passing her another package of food, she spoke softly. "Do you intend to resume your life as if this meeting never happened?"**

**He was startled by the blunt question and shifted, uncomfortable. Deciding to be honest, he looked at her. "Yes."**

**She slumped even as she huffed a tired laugh. "You don't know what you're doing to me," she said simply, casting tired eyes his way. He shook his head, firm. **

"**No… but I know what I'm doing FOR you."**

**Again, she laughed wearily, dropping her head as she picked disinterestedly at her bread. "Of course."**

**His eyes narrowed at her. "Do you intend to re-open the conversation that had us fighting last night?"**

**She swallowed and then met his eyes. "Will re-opening the conversation help you to see things differently?"**

**Eyes still narrow, he shook his head. "Absolutely not."**

**She shrugged then, looking away. "Then there's no point, is there."**

**He sighed mightily. "Mairwen," he sighed as she ate, "I would very much like to know that this time, there's been honesty between us… and that when I leave this time, it's with your blessing."**

**She slowly lowered the bread from her lips and turned to face him. "You wish for there to be honesty between us this time? A clear, concise understanding?"**

**The moment he answered "Yes!" he knew he'd walked right into a neatly laid trap.**

**She looked at him steadily before she spoke, knowing she couldn't take back the words once they were spoken. **

**Oh, to the Abyss with it, she finally cursed, and spoke the words she'd waited so many years to speak. **

"**I'm in love with you, Jehann. I always have been."**

**Jehann was pretty sure he felt the ground tilt underneath him, and he sputtered. "That's… that's not fair!" he said harshly, breathing heavily and pointing at her. "You cannot bring that into this conversation!"**

**Still calm, she smirked. "Can't I? I believe I just did." She leaned forward slightly, eyes narrow. "Now, sir mage," she continued firmly, "there can be complete honesty between us."**

**Furious with her, he shook his head, his expression stormy. "You're trying to complicate a situation that's black and white, Mairwen. The bottom line," he continued loudly, "is that once we reach Southshore, I'll be leaving you there. With YOUR PEOPLE," he stressed, emphasizing the last words. "Would you rather part ways on good terms, paladin, or with a broken heart? That is the choice I'm faced with, and it was the choice that faced me 7 years ago." He glared at her, angrier with her than he could ever remember being. "I intend to make the same choice now as I did then."**

"**Of course you do," she said wearily, simply not interested in fighting with volume. "After all, it worked beautifully, didn't it? Why change what already works? I mean," she continued smoothly, "when you left 7 years ago, I'm sure you were able to move on easily, to forget about me… to put the plot of land on the shores of Alterac out of your mind, to not think about the fact that there was perhaps a home there, waiting for you." She met his eyes, and despite the calm tone of her voice, he saw the old anger in her eyes. "I'm sure I was easy to forget, Jehann. Unfortunately, you weren't so easily dismissed from my mind."**

"**Is that what you think?" he asked, his voice pained and tired. "That I was able to easily forget you?"**

"**I have no choice but to believe it," she said hotly. "You've certainly never proven me wrong."**

**He was silent, drawing his knees up and staring into the fire. "I have never," he finally said, quietly, "gone a day without thinking about you." He met her eyes. "Without missing you. Never."**

**She paused, and the air left her in a rush, leaving her feeling wilted. "You make no sense," she muttered. "I don't know how to get through to you. You've never once asked me if maybe I was willing to take all those risks you're so bent on saving me from."**

**He shook his head, returning his gaze to the fire stubbornly. "I am still bent on saving you from them, Mairwen, and so there's no reason to ask."**

**She snorted. "So if you won't stay because I'm asking you to," she said, "what would it take?"**

**He said nothing, retreating into stubborn silence, and she made a frustrated noise in her throat. "Stubborn ass," she said hotly, and before she knew what she was doing, she'd thrown the remainder of her bread at him.**

**Stunned, he watched the half-eaten loaf roll away after bouncing off of his shoulder, and then lifted shocked eyes to hers.**

**She was as shocked as he was, her eyes wide, her mouth open… and before he knew it, he felt laughter bubbling up his throat. **

**Throwing his head back, he laughed harder than he'd laughed in 7 years, and slowly, her lips twitched as she fought her own mirth. When she finally gave in, her laughter transported him back in time, and as he laughed, he was reaching for her, pulling her roughly into a hug.**

"**You bitch," he laughed, holding her tight, and the insult had her laughing harder, unable to deny it when the bread she'd thrown at him was still lying a few feet away. "How I could have possibly missed such a spoiled brat is beyond me."**

"**How I could ever love such a stubborn goat is beyond me," she shot back, and with that, she yanked him to her and kissed him.**

**He didn't have the defences to fight it, though some small, dim voice inside his head insisted he should at least try. Quickly silencing it, he groaned and grabbed her, pulling her into his lap and pouring his heart into kissing her back.**

**She was still chuckling as she laid kisses on his cheeks, feeling his breath on her face as he fought for control. "By the Light, Jehann," she whispered harshly, "for once, let yourself love me." She continued, kissing his neck. "…even if it's only until you leave me behind again."**

**He groaned again, fighting himself, and she drew back, her face firm. "By the Abyss," she cursed, "leave me behind again if you must… but this time, know what it is you're leaving behind."**

**Even as his hands came up to start working at the front of her shirt, he gave one final struggle. "This…" he started, stopping when her lips claimed his again. Ripping his mouth away, he continued, determined, "…this changes… changes nothing, Mairwen."**

**She nodded, fevered. "Give me something to keep for myself this time," she whispered, and he bent his head to her, claiming her lips and silencing them both once and for all.**

**This is it, he thought. The battle lost, he was startled to feel only relief as his hands deftly untied the front of her tunic, his lips following their path as she arched her back, breathing heavily. Laying her on her bedroll, he followed her, his breath on her collarbone as he spread her tunic open, baring her to his eyes.**

"**By the Light, Mairwen," he breathed, struck. She was unbelievably perfect, and as his hand slid across her chest to her breast, she arched her back again, tangling her hands in his hair, drawing him to her. Determined to give her what she asked for, he resisted the temptation to simply ravish her and instead laid his lips to her collarbone, caressing her almost reverently.**

**Her hands tightened in his hair and she made a frustrated noise in her throat. "Jehann," she said, her voice strangled, "by the gods, mage, get on with it, would you?"**

**He made a long, low noise in his throat as his lips slid over her left breast and he shot her an amused look, simply shaking his head. As she cried out and made fists in the back of his robes, he slid a hand down her hip, his fingers sliding under the waistband of her pants.**

**She growled, dragging his robes up and over his head, and before he could protest, she'd leaned up, laying her lips to the hollow of his neck and pulling him on top of her. Her nails dug into his back and he gasped, feeling his control snap as her hand shamelessly slid down his firm stomach and across the front of his trousers.**

**Even as his voice strangled in his throat, hers hummed contentedly and she shifted, restless. "I said get on with it," she whispered, and it was her turn to look amused as she unlaced the front of his pants. Clearly out of control of the situation, Jehann abandoned his attempts at treating her gently and instead went to work on her pants in turn.**

**They'd barely gotten the last of their clothes off before she was dragging him on top of her, her eyes seeking his and her hands on his cheeks. He dragged air into his lungs, so rarely needed but definitely necessary now, and said harshly, "Stop."**

**She froze, her hands on his shoulders, her body arching against his, and sent him a pleading look. Gritting his teeth, he dropped his forehead to hers and said, "Mairwen… you need to be sure." He met her eyes and kissed her gently. "I can still make sure this doesn't happen."**

**The thought had her hands tightening on his shoulders. Looking up at him, naked and beautiful and full of passion, she uttered one word. **

"**Please."**

**If she'd said anything else, if she'd been flip or if she'd argued, he might have stood a chance at salvaging the situation… but he was helpless against her pleading. Drawing in his strength for one more question, he asked, "Are you strong enough?"**

**She smiled gently. "I've always been strong enough for this," she whispered, kissing him gently. Dropping back to the ground, she looked up at him, her smile gentle, her eyes passionate, and said, "Now, Jehann."**

**Dropping his head, he felt her legs slide around his hips, draw him closer… and then he groaned harshly into her hair, sinking into her in one long stroke.**

**As she cried out and arched against him, he registered with dim shock that he had been her first… he'd felt it, the slight resistance, and hadn't been able to prevent it… but any worry he might have had for her well-being was dissolved when she dragged her nails up his back and tilted her hips, forcing him a little deeper.**

**Later, Jehann would remember only the sensation of the two of them rocking together, moving as one. The fire had disappeared, their situation had vanished, and all that was left was the two of them, locked together in passion and relief. As he dropped his head to her shoulder and kissed her ear blindly, hearing her breath panting in his ear, he said roughly, "Light, Mairwen…" **

**Those were his last words as he felt her stiffen against him. With relief and a shout, he followed her over the edge, losing himself inside her.**

**The next thing he heard was her catching her breath and saying, sounding stunned, "Good heavens, mage, why didn't we do that years ago?"**

**Jehann, lazy, reclined on his bedroll, looking down at the naked woman sleeping across him. His lips curving gently, he brushed her hair from her face and marvelled at his unbelievable good fortune… I may be dead, he thought, looking her over with appreciation, but I can still recognize when I'm a lucky bastard.**

**Reality, unfortunately, had been trying to poke its head back in since he'd rolled off of her a couple of hours ago, but so far he'd held it off. Now that the deed was done, he figured they deserved one day of happiness before they had to return to real life.**

**He looked down at his own body, tilting his head and studying it. He'd never paid much attention to it, he realized, not since he'd been liberated, and the differences between them was even more startling when you took clothes out of the picture. Where she was whole, he was not… but right now, those same differences only reminded him yet again how lucky he was.**

**What other Forsaken had ever had a beautiful, naked woman tell him she loved him?**

**Yes, he thought contentedly, laying his lips to her forehead as she stirred… definitely a lucky bastard.**

**Her eyes fluttered open, squinting. It was going on ten in the morning, and the sun was bright. Looking up at him apprehensively, she smiled when she saw his open, relaxed face, and she chuckled, dropping her head back to his shoulder. "Well thank the gods," she drawled sleepily. "I half expected to find you gone."**

**He huffed a laugh and ran a hand down her hip. "I tried, but Echo wouldn't give me me clothes."**

**She snickered and curled into him, getting up on an elbow and looking down at him. As he reached up and pushed her hair from her face, she studied him closely. "Thank you."**

**He inclined his head slightly. "I feel I should be the one thanking you, Mairwen." He paused. "I only hope this doesn't make it harder for you when we reach Southshore."**

**She felt a shot of pain at the thought of reaching Southshore, but she hid it well and tilted her head, smiling. "We have several more days before then," she pointed out, leaning down and kissing his neck. "I for one am looking forward to them."**

**He took a sharp breath as her hand slid across his flat stomach and pulled her closer, squeezing. "That would make both of us," he assured her, and with that, he pulled her on top of him.**

**As far as Jehann was concerned, he thought later that night, he'd be fine if they never reached Southshore. The intimacy between them was natural and complete, and he had the nagging idea that it had always been there, just waiting for them to catch up. He'd had her mount Echo in front of him this time, enjoying the feeling of having his arms around her, and for the duration of their time together, he intended to enjoy being with her in every way he could.**

**She was open and giving, telling him often that she loved him. Now that the words had been spoken, she couldn't seem to get enough of saying it, and while they warmed him every time, he hadn't said them back. She knew how he felt, he knew… but he drew the line at speaking his heart aloud.**

**More than anything they'd done, he felt that telling her he loved her would be giving her promises that he knew he couldn't keep.**

**She was eating ravenously now, and her skin had started looking healthy again. It was only a matter of time before she started to gain some weight back, and with a mixture of happiness and sorrow, he knew she was coming closer and closer to needing him less and less.**

**As they crossed the border into the Hillsbrad Foothills the next morning, he knew they were down to two more nights worth of travel, and was cautious when he found their next resting spot for the day. This area was far more populated, and would only continue to get more dangerous the further east they went. **

**Finally, he found a suitable spot just across the border. It was still an hour before dawn, but he not only knew he wouldn't find a better spot before the sun came up, but he was also not adverse to stealing an hour here and there for themselves, when they weren't on the back of a horse.**

**As she set up camp quickly, stacking their supplies and digging a small fire pit, he gathered a stack of wood for a fire. The days had gotten steadily cooler as they'd moved south through Silverpine, and the coast could be smelled on the cool breeze now through the day. As he dropped the latest bundle of dried debris into the firepit, he glanced around and smirked faintly.**

**If anyone had told him a week ago that he'd be camping in the Hillsbrad Foothills, and doing it happily, he'd have wondered what sort of head trauma would make a person suggest such a foolish thing.**

**Instead, he thought, watching as she settled on her bedroll and finger-combed her hair, he found it immensely satisfying. He was an active member of Horde society, never staying in one place for long, and for the past 3 years, the cold northern continent of Northrend had been his home. The fact that he was quite literally removed from the war effort had given him a respite he hadn't known he needed, and for the first time, he was openly grateful that he'd been home for a rare visit when Patrick had found Mairwen in the Apothecarium.**

**She'd be dead by now, he knew, if Patrick hadn't been able to reach him before he'd left the city. And he'd be back in Icerown, never knowing how close he'd been to the woman he loved while he'd been home.**

**She looked up, catching him staring, and smiled. "You're daydreaming."**

**Shaking himself out of his reverie, he returned the smile and joined her, filling the firepit and settling back on his bedroll. Igniting the wood casually, he drew his knees up and glanced to her. "And you should eat."**

**She nodded, laying a hand to her stomach. "For once, I agree."**

**As he passed her one of the three remaining bundles of food, she sent him an amused look. "My stomach apparently understands that food is once again accessible," she joked, tearing into a piece of dried meat. "And it's demanding it constantly."**

**His hand ran down her back. "It won't be long, paladin, before you'll be as strong as you once were." He glanced to her. "Do you have plans?"**

**She sighed restlessly, unsure. "It feels as though I've never been free to do as I wish," she said quietly, not looking up. "To be honest, I feel I'm at risk of returning to my cottage and never coming back out, for fear of the world."**

**He processed this quietly before nodding. "Understandable." He paused, and when he spoke again, his voice was firm. "But misguided. It is essential that you regain your place in the world, Mairwen. If you don't," he cautioned, "then Keever will have succeeded in his quest to break you."**

**Her eyes narrowed. "His name is Keever?"**

**Jehann nodded. "He is not one of our most popular citizens, but Sylvanas deems him useful."**

**Her jaw set, she said tightly, "I never knew the bastard's name." Swallowing with difficulty, she set the meat aside, no longer hungry. "He's evil, Jehann. Even aside from his work… he has a black soul."**

**He nodded in full agreement. "That's a common assessment of his character among our people. Even the worst of us cannot abide his presence for long."**

**She was silent, gazing into the fire, and he tilted his head, his hand borrowing warmth from her back as it made slow sweeps up her spine. "Mairwen… if you need to talk about your experience… I'm at your disposal."**

**She forced a smile, meeting his eyes. "Thank you, Jehann." She looked back to the fire, sighing. "But I don't think I can stand against those memories just yet."**

**He nodded, understanding, and pulled her to him, laying a kiss on her forehead and wrapping his arms around her. His dark robes warming her as they came around her as well, she settled into him, seeking and finding comfort as they fell into silence.**

**He felt her breath against his neck and tilted his head, laying his cheek to her hair and closing his eyes. He was drifting into a light doze when he felt her fingers trace the edge of one of the leather straps that adorned his face. Opening his eyes, he looked down to her, gently amused when he saw the look of concentration on her face. **

"**I can barely remember you without these," she explained, tilting her head and tracing the other strap with a fingertip. "It seems you've always had them."**

**He smiled wryly. "To me as well." Slanting an amused look at her, he said "I neglected to tell you the reason why I got them."**

**Lifting a brow, she started to smile. "Do tell, mage."**

**Grinning openly now, he fell back on his bedroll, bringing her with him and pulling her to lay beside him. Running a finger down her cheek, he said, "I decided to hide a small flaw on my left eye before we met. When I decided to relocate to Hillsbrad, it was with the understanding that I would try to seek you out… I did not wish to look like a shambling corpse when I did."**

**Her breath caught, stunned at the confession, and her heart softened as her smile grew. "You fool," she chuckled, kissing his cheek. "You didn't look like a shambling corpse." Amused at the description, she laughed again, and he grinned in response, disagreeing.**

"**I took little notice of my appearance or hygiene," he admitted wryly. "But if I was going to risk coming face to face with the paladin who'd been stuck in my head for weeks since we'd met… well, I wanted to look as close to human as I could."**

**She tilted her head, her expression soft, and laid a hand to her cheek. "I didn't fall in love with a human," she said gently. "I fell in love with you… no matter what flaws you believe you carry."**

**Touched, he reached up, pushing her hair back from her face and feeling a swell of emotion tighten his chest. Swamped with love and grief, his voice was hoarse when he spoke. "Troublesome paladin… you'll end up killing me all over again."**

**With that, he brought her lips down to his and crushed them in a kiss more passionate than anything they'd shared yet. Recognizing his desperate need, she felt him pull her on top of him roughly, his strong hands running down her back, cupping her, pulling her tight against him, and she met his passion with her own.**

**Empowered and self-righteous, she took control of him from that moment and he hit the ground willingly, falling back and submitting to her with no regrets, giving her everything she demanded of him and revelling in it blindly. It seemed it could have been a moment or a year later that she was on top of him, claiming him as hers. As his head arched into the ground and his hips left the bedroll, he knew with almost violent abandon that even if he went the rest of his life without her, from that moment on he belonged to her.**


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 12

7 Years Ago

He was a coward.

Jehann glared at his reflection on the surface of the water. Casting his line into the small pond just outside Tarren Mill, he settled back once again to wait for the tug on his line as he mentally fought with himself.

I am not.

His mind laughed at him. Oh, but you are, it snickered. Why else would you have waited this long to return to her?

It hasn't been that long, he argued defensively. She's been on duty.

…Right, the sarcastic voice drawled. She went on duty almost 2 months ago. Meaning she's about a week and a half away from leaving again. And here you sit.

You're a COWARD.

Jehann winced, arguing becoming more and more difficult. His heart heavy, he thought back over the last 6 and a half weeks and felt like hanging his head.

He didn't know what to do.

He'd left that morning before she'd stirred, unable to stand laying there watching her sleep any longer. If he'd remained, if he'd allowed himself to see her smile in the morning light, he'd be lost… and so he'd snuck out like a thief in the night, being careful not to wake her. When she'd wake, she'd find the cushion beside her empty, his horse gone, and a flower resting beside her head.

He couldn't bring himself to not leave her even a small token of his regard for her.

Since then, he'd thrown himself into his training. He only left the base to work on his spell casting, effectively keeping the aggressive wildlife around the base in check while he built and expanded his skills. His work had paid off… last week, a small raid consisting of 4 Alliance attackers had descended on the Mill, and Jehann had finally been ordered to help defend, Darthalia finally deeming him worthy to stand beside her & the other accomplished defenders of the Horde. The Alliance had been driven off, losing 2 of their members in the skirmish, and though the Mill had suffered light fatalities as well, Jehann had been exhilarated.

But that victory also meant he no longer needed to remain here in Hillsbrad… he was now strong enough to move on, to seek surroundings and trainers that would provide him with more challenging tasks.

He'd put it off for 3 weeks, lingering in this place he'd called home for almost a year, and he couldn't lie to himself about the reasons why.

He was systematically destroying his peace of mind with this endless wait, he knew. The answers were not about to simply fall out of the sky, and he owed it both to Mairwen and to himself to decide his next course of action before much more time had passed.

Sighing, he drew his line back in and then re-cast.

He could afford another cast or two.

Later that evening, when the sun was sinking below the treeline and the shadows were long, Jehann was holed up in his room. Idly flipping through an old tome that Humbert had lent him, believing it would be of some interest to the mage, he was doing a better job of daydreaming than he was of actually reading when a knock on his door had him looking up, startled.

"Frostheart," a male voice called, "you have a visitor."

Jehann lifted a brow, rising from the small table and crossing to the door. Opening it, he nodded to the fairly new Deathguard who met him. "A visitor?" he frowned. "Who?"

"He wouldn't say," the man said, shrugging. "He's waiting for you downstairs. He's travelled far, by the looks of it."

Jehann nodded and stepped into the hall, closing his door behind him and following the man down the stairs into the large common room of the inn, scanning the room for his visitor.

He saw the demon first, and a grin broke out across his face when the imp spotted him and then reached up, tugging on the robes of his master and pointing. With pleasure, Jehann saw Himotep's head turn in his direction and the warlock rose, grinning widely.

"Jehann!" he called, beckoning him over. "Join me, my old friend!"

Smiling, Jehann reached out and caught the other man in a rough embrace, slapping his back before dropping into the chair across from him. The imp hopped onto the table between them and Jehann nodded to him, as well. "Zil," he greeted, and the imp nodded, row upon row of needle-sharp teeth showing as he grinned. Zil glanced up at his master, obviously showing none of the deference or intimidation most minions would show their masters, and commented, "He's no uglier than he was the last time we saw him, master."

As Jehann snorted, amused, Himotep leaned back and studied Jehann closely, idly lifting a hand and scratching Zildan behind the ears. "Well spotted, little one," Himotep said warmly, teasing the mage. "He's looking well indeed."

Jehann leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "What brings you to Hillsbrad, friend?" he asked. As far as he knew, Himotep considered his duties in battle to be complete, and by the time the two men had met, the warlock was happily rooted in the Undercity with no intention of ever travelling abroad again.

Himotep shrugged, smiling. "I was curious to see how you fared," he admitted, "and had need of travelling past this area anyway. I decided to stop in on my way through… I'll continue on my way at sunrise."

Jehann nodded, delighted. "Then we can't waste time with formalities," he said. "Tell me what's been going on in the Undercity since I left."

As Himotep settled back in his chair and launched into a report of all the local gossip, he studied his young friend, concerned. True, the mage had obviously grown in skill, and he seemed far, far less naïve and young as he had when they'd last seen each other, but his eyes were far older than they should be.

What had happened in the mage's life in the past 10 months that he would be so saddened?

Figuring he could bide his time and wait to find out, Himotep did his best to entertain the other man with silly stories from home… he got an especially good reaction from the mage when he told him that one of the Apothecaries had been caught 'celebrating his virility' with a warlock far younger than himself… apparently the man's wife, as undead as himself, was NOT amused, and had almost killed the poor misguided young girl with a potent Shadow Word spell.

Jehann laughed. "Remind me never to piss off a priest," he chuckled, thinking of the devastating effect a well placed Shadow Word could wreak on a body. Himotep grinned, happy to see his young friend laughing.

He'd missed him, he admitted wryly, watching as the younger man reached out and scratched Zil behind the ears. Jehann was the only person aside from Himotep himself that the imp could stand, preferring to remain in his own realm until he was called forth in the heat of battle… but when he'd heard just who Himotep was coming here to visit, Zil had insisted he be included. Amused and too fond of the tiny demon to refuse, Himotep had complied. Watching the two of them now, he was glad.

Jehann glanced over when Himotep leaned forward, his eys intent. "So," he said softly, drawing the word out, "how goes your… training?"

Jehann shifted, uncomfortable. The last time they'd parted, Himotep had referred to Jehann's quest to seek out the paladin as his 'training', and he knew that the term still applied.

Sighing, he glanced around. "Fancy a walk?"

Ten minutes later, Himotep settled on a log beside the same pond Jehann had been fishing in earlier, and looked up at the mage, concerned and filled with a sense of foreboding. As the mage settled next to him and picked up a stone, tossing it listlessly into the water, the warlock sighed deeply. "You found her, I assume."

It wasn't a question, and Jehann nodded, staring into the water. "I did indeed."

He glanced to his friend and was suddenly grateful for the chance to talk about Mairwen with someone he could trust. "I've been visiting her regularly."

And that explains the sense of imminent doom, Himotep thought resignedly, and shook his head, at a loss. "It… it never occurred to you the danger you were in? That you were putting both of you in?"

Jehann laughed. The sound held little warmth. "It occurred to me… it just came to me far too late."

Himotep's eyes narrowed. "Explain."

Expecting the worst, he was somewhat relieved when Jehan sighed and said "A few months ago, I realized I'd fallen in love with her." When Himotep nodded, not surprised, he continued, "Almost 2 months ago I started to suspect she felt the same way. And now," he said, throwing another stone into the water with more force than before, "I feel as though I'm responsible for two people's lives. No matter how badly I may want to allow her to make her choice, to choose to face the future together… my conscience will not allow it." He sighed deeply, his shoulders dropping. "I haven't been back since, and I'm torn between what I should do… and what I want to do."

Himotep snorted. "Your path is clear, Jehann. You're not her people anymore… in fact, her people would never allow such a union, even if she WERE careless enough to return your feelings." Trying to prove a point, he shifted, turning towards the mage and lowering his voice. "Jehann. If you think for one SECOND that her people would not have you executed for 'seducing and corrupting' one of their innocent daughters, and worse, a PALADIN, a champion of the Light… you're a fool."

Jehann said nothing at first, his mind working, and finally he said "To be honest, my own welfare hasn't worried me. I'm far more concerned with the quality involved in a life shared with a Forsaken." He closed his eyes. "I love her far too deeply to rob her of so much."

Himotep sighed mightily, resting a hand to his friend's back in support. "You always were a different breed of Forsaken," he said wryly. "You're the only one I know of who puts others before yourself… myself included."

He paused, then spoke again in a firm voice. "You know what you have to do, Jehann. You can never go back."

Jehann was silent, struggling with the thought of simply vanishing without an explanation. It seemed, after all they'd shared, a very cold, callous, typically Forsaken thing to do… and she'd spend the rest of her life wondering why he'd never come back, wondering if he were even still alive, wondering if he'd been caught and thrown into the dungeons…

No, he knew, he couldn't do that to her.

Suddenly understanding that his old friend really had no means to help him, Jehann nodded and forced a smile. "Thank you, old friend."

As the topic of conversation moved into more neutral directions, Himotep wasn't fooled.

When he rose the next day a few hours past dawn, he was told Jehann had left many hours before and hadn't expected to be back until dusk. With a heavy heart, Himotep left as well, somehow wishing he'd never stopped to check on the younger man… this kind of worry couldn't possibly be good for his health.

You're still a coward.

Jehann grit his teeth as he stared down into Mairwen's garden from the top of the embankment. He'd been standing there, concealed in the trees, for some time now, wrestling with himself, trying not to listen to the small voice inside him that was still insisting he was being unnecessarily hasty in his decision to leave her.

Yes, he thought finally, giving in. I'm a coward.

But admitting it didn't give him the courage he knew he needed, and with resignation he started the decline into her property.

The placed was quiet, no sign of movement drawing his eye, but her horse was still home, so she was doubtless nearby. Coming around the side of the house and deliberately stepping over the spot where they'd slept together almost 2 months before, he stopped when he came within sight of the dock.

His heart felt constricted when he saw her. By the gods, he thought, she's so beautiful.

She was sitting on the end of the dock, trailing her feet in the water and holding a fishing pole. Beside her was a small basket and as he watched, she reached into it and absently drew out a handful of raspberries, popping them in her mouth before returning her attention to the lake. She was wearing a pair of knee-length linen pants and a loose tunic, and her hair was pulled back into a loose ponytail. There was nothing fancy about her appearance, nothing that suggested she'd put any extra effort into it that morning, but she was still the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen.

He sighed silently and stepped onto the dock, the vibrations causing her to jump, startled. Whipping her head around, her face broke into a wide smile when she saw him, and she stood quickly. Brushing red-stained fingers on her pants, she approached quickly, starting to laugh. "You scared me," she admonished gently, and without hesitating, she embraced him in a hug.

His breath catching, he was helpless against her and wrapped his arms around her in turn, smiling faintly. "My apologies," he smiled, as she released him. She shook her head, her eyes dancing.

"None needed," she assured him, motioning for him to follow her and returning to the end of the dock. As he sat beside her, she continued. "I'm simply very glad to see you." She slanted her eyes to his. "It's been longer than usual… I had begun to worry."

He dropped his head. "I know. Again, I apologize. My absence was… necessary," he said, and this, at least, was the truth. Nodding, she picked up her fishing pole again and nudged the basket of berries closer to him. "Well," she smiled, "no matter… you're here now."

He was silent, and as she cast, she glanced to him. "How have you been?"

He sighed and decided he might as well take the plunge. "Mairwen, I… we need to talk."

She frowned, concerned, and immediately lowered her pole, shifting to face him. "Alright."

He hadn't thought this far, he realized, and cursed himself… he had no idea how to proceed. He was about to start trying, however, when her hand covered his and squeezed. Startled, he met her eyes, and she smiled gently. "Jehann," she sighed, "stop worrying so much and just say it. We'll figure it out together, whatever it is… it can't be as bad as all that."

Dammit, he thought wearily, and shifted. "See, that's the thing," he said hesitantly. "I… well, you've said yourself that I've grown in skill and ability since we met, correct?"

She nodded, smiling, and he continued. "In the time I've spent living in Hillsbrad, I've grown beyond what the trainers there can teach me." He paused, then said, "I need to move on. I'm… I'm leaving the Foothills."

There, he told that sarcastic voice inside him harshly. Call me a coward NOW.

Her eyes widened and she bit her lip, before she reined herself into control and forced a small, shaky smile. "Well…that's wonderful, Jehann!" she said, trying to stay positive. Leaning forward slightly, she teased, "So you're here to warn me that our visits are going to grow even more scarce, is that it?"

He regarded her, his face stricken, and slowly, she realized that wasn't why he was here at all.

"Oh Light," she whispered, her face going pale. "You're never coming back, are you?"

He looked out to the lake, the late afternon sun reflecting off the surface, and swallowed. "I'm afraid not, Mairwen."

He heard her take a deep, shuddering breath beside him, keeping herself under tight control, and she finally spoke in a choked voice. "But… but why? Why abandon this friendship? It's come to mean so much to us both, Jehann… why would you throw that away?"

He reached out without looking, and for the first time, it was him who reached for her. Feeling her latch onto his hand, he linked their fingers tightly and said nothing, only lifted her hand and laid a kiss to the back of it.

It was the kiss that was her undoing, and to her dismay, she felt tears slam into the backs of her eyes. As she swiped at her face with her free hand, she said, "I don't understand."

Her voice was tight, hinting at anger, and he understood… he was feeling it himself. He was about to speak when she said, her voice shaking, "And if I followed you?"

Her voice told him she was trying to tease him, desperately trying to hold onto some form of levity, but he responded with something close to panic. Meeting her eyes, he shook his head, stricken. "You cannot."

Frustrated, her watery smile vanished, to be replaced with a glare. "You seem to have thought this through very thoroughly," she said tightly. "Is this what kept you away for so long?"

He looked away and she didn't need his words to have his answer. She snorted, releasing his hand and standing. "So while I spent the past 2 months worrying about you, you were simply staying away until you could figure out how to tell me you never want to see me again." Shaking her head, she turned away resignedly, making her way back up the dock, not looking to see if he was following.

He wasn't… in fact, he knew if he followed her right away, he was at risk of falling to his knees and begging her to forget his foolish words, that he would be back, anything to make this damn day a little easier.

He heard her enter her cottage, but her door remained open, and once he'd collected himself, he stood and turned to follow her inside.

He stopped at the foot of her dock, however, the sight of her cottage in the evening light freezing him in place.

This would be the last time he stood here, he realized suddenly, and he dragged a deep breath into his wasted lungs, feeling as if he were breathing broken glass.

Everywhere he looked seemed to hold a memory, and suddenly, he knew he needed to finish this and be gone before he did something he'd regret later… or worse, something that SHE would regret.

She looked up from the table when his shadow fell across her floor, and his heart broke. Her cheeks were wet. Taking a deep breath, he said hoarsely, "Thank you so much, Mairwen, for everything you've given me."

He grit his teeth and forced himself to continue as she dissolved into tears again, burying her face in her hands. "I will…" he cleared his throat, and his voice broke. "I will never forget you."

Unable to stop himself, he dropped a kiss to the crown of her head, whispering, "Please… please don't come looking for me. Just… just live a long life and be safe, paladin."

As she continued to cry, he turned his back and made to leave. As he stepped outside into the dusk light, however, she had one question for him. Raising her ravaged face from her hands, her voice was thick when she spoke.

"Why?"

He sighed, coming to a halt. Without turning around, he said hoarsely, "Because some things simply can't last forever."

And as he left her behind, never looking back, he realized that the sarcastic voice inside of him had finally fallen silent.


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 13

Present Day

Mairwen opened her eyes slowly, the cool breeze smelling of salt water and wood smoke. Lifting her head from her lover's shoulder, she looked down at his face impassively.

He'd fallen into a rare sleep after she'd collapsed on top of him, sliding off of him to rest her head on his shoulder, and she took the chance, so rarely given, to study him unseen.

He was pale, his skin dry and tight. While there were parts of his body that were heavily muscled, there were others that were nearly wasted away.. His chest, broad and fit, tapered sharply to an emaciated waist, his hip bones peeking out from tightly wrapped flesh. His thighs, powerful and strong, relented and submitted to his exposed kneecaps. His hands, broad and long-fingers, capable and able to give her the most exquisite pleasure, were perfect… if one could look past the fact that the bones were exposed down to the first knuckle of every finger.

It was ironic, she thought now, that she should love so deeply a man who considered himself, in some ways accurately, less than whole… and yet that same man was more alive and more real to her than anyone she'd ever known in her life.

But what he didn't understand, what he couldn't trust, was that where he lacked substance physically, he balanced out everywhere else. He was perfectly suited to her, she knew, and if given the chance, they would do quite well making a life together.

She felt different, she realized, somewhere deep inside her. Two hours ago, she had felt her passion change into a vicious possessiveness, had felt an unmistakable need to make him hers. The fact that he'd gladly laid back and allowed it, had welcomed it even, was more telling than she expected he realized.

She'd needed it, she thought. And because he'd known it, he'd been more tha happy to allow it.

To her mind, looking down at him now, it was suddenly apparent to her that if she made it clear how badly she needed him in her life, he just might be helpless to refuse her.

She felt a small burst of triumph burst through her even as it was smothered with guilt.

She could, maddeningly enough, justify his pigheaded decision to leave her behind. But she couldn't justify using his love for her to force him not to.

So, she thought sadly, laying her head to his chest gently, this is indeed how it will end. Because he can't stay, and I can't make him.

Her eyes closed in grief as his arms came around her in his sleep, and she wished she could find solace in anger instead of this terrible acceptance.

The silence between them had changed subtly, Jehann thought later that night. They'd been travelling for a couple of hours before the thought had occurred to him, and she hadn't spoken. She was mounted in front of him and had twisted in the saddle, sitting sideways and leaning against him, tucking her head under his chin. Her arms were wrapped around his ribs and he tightened his arms around her instinctively.

They would reach the borders of Southshore the next night, he knew.

His teeth ground together and he searched desperately for relief, for a sense of anticipation of escaping this exquisite torment… but it had vanished.

To curse himself for being so intimate with her would do no good, he thought tiredly. Besides… the thought of regretting something so precious seemed like sacrilege.

But her silence spoke volumes to him. When he'd woken earlier to find her looking down at him, her eyes had lost their seeking, pleading look. Her face had lost its look of indecision, and he knew somehow that while he'd slept, she'd come to accept his decision to leave her behind.

It meant she had no hope remaining.

The thought should have liberated him, he knew. His biggest obstacle had always been, through this journey, standing strong against the blind hope she'd had, the hope that he was back in her life, that he wouldn't leave her behind again. With that hope gonw, he knew on some level that he should have been glad… she wouldn't fight him, and she wouldn't tear out his soul by begging.

He was wrong, he realized wearily. His biggest obstacle, unbeknownst to him until now, was leaving her behind and knowing she wouldn't look for him this time.

This time, there would be no questions. There would be no watching the horizon for him, no stopping to listen every time something moved in the brush behind her garden. This time, there would be no agony, no confusion… but no light at the end of the tunnel.

It seemed no matter which direction he chose, he would be hurting her.

The following day, their last together, dawned wet. The rain blowing in from the coast reached them as they made camp, and before long the small outcropping of rock that they'd found refuge under was streaming water, leaving the small space inside shrouded in a misty sort of privacy screen. As Jehann watched, Mairwen stood at the edge of the outcropping and stared out into the rainy morning, memorizing her features as she turned back to him, her face impassive. He held a hand out, still astonished and humbled when she immediately came to him, crowding close.

He laid her out on the ground and followed, undressing her slowly and feeling her do the same for him, and there was no teasing between them this time. No laughter, no words… just the two of them, meeting each other as equals.

They came together smoothly, both of them splintering at the perfection of it, and Jehann looked down at her, braced on his elbows. Dragging his thumbs across her forehead, he dropped his head and kissed her ear, feeling her breathing harsh against his cheek. "Beloved," he said roughly in his native language, the word being drawn out of him on a groan as she started to move. Right before he lost all control, he continued in Gutterspeak, gasping, "By the gods, paladin… I'm so sorry."

With that, before she could breathlessly ask for a translation, he crushed her lips with his own and proceeded to claim her as roughly as she'd claimed him the day before. Crying out, clinging to him, she threw her head back and let him drag her with him.

This is the last time I'll feel this, she thought suddenly, and as she stiffened underneath him and found that explosive place that only had could take her to, she cried out in both pleasure and grief, arching underneath him, hearing him say something in his rough language as he joined her.

"Mine," he growled in Gutterspeak, feeling her arch under his powerful thrusts, seeing the blank look in her eyes, and the thought alone was enough to send him over to meet her.

He collapsed a few moments later, shaking and groaning, laying his forehead to the ground and wondering, dimly, if he had the strength to lift his weight off of her. Weakly, he felt her hands relax on his back, her nails no longer digging into him, and felt her head move, her lips weakly touching his ear. "I love you," she whispered in Common, and startled, he realized that there was apparently one phrase he still remembered from being human.

As much as she'd tried not to, Mairwen fell asleep soon after Jehann had rolled off of her, lulled by the security of being pulled immediately into his arms and feeling him drag the blankets up and over them. The rain was hypnotic, and before she fell asleep, she yawned deeply and said, her voice slurred, "I don't want to sleep this day away."

As her eyes closed, she felt his lips touch her forehead and he whispered, "Rest, Mairwen. I'll still be here when you wake."

Her last thought as she fell asleep was that she really should protest, really should fight harder to make sure she got every available moment out of their last day together… but her body demanded sleep as often as it demanded food these days, especially in light of the very unique activities she'd been allowing it to enjoy.

She slept for most of the day, leaving Jehann to pass the longest day of his life in silence. The rain let up around mid-afternoon, and as he watched, the sun started peeking through the trees, making the water dropping off of the trees sparkle like diamonds as they fell.

With a mixture of dismay and relief, he felt himself emotionally locking himself away as the day wore on. I can't face this night, he thought more than once, and every time he thought it, his stomach would tighten and he'd feel himself withdraw a little bit further inside himself.

By the time she woke at dusk, feeling his lips on her neck and his hands stroking up her sides, he felt sufficiently prepared for what was coming. Needing her, humbled when she came out of sleep needing him just as much, he made love to her one last time as the day's last light faded, gently guiding her to her own release. He moved inside of her in a smooth caress, over and over, and when they found each other in that incredible moment, they clung to what they knew was already lost.

Chapter 13

Present Day

Mairwen opened her eyes slowly, the cool breeze smelling of salt water and wood smoke. Lifting her head from her lover's shoulder, she looked down at his face impassively.

He'd fallen into a rare sleep after she'd collapsed on top of him, sliding off of him to rest her head on his shoulder, and she took the chance, so rarely given, to study him unseen.

He was pale, his skin dry and tight. While there were parts of his body that were heavily muscled, there were others that were nearly wasted away.. His chest, broad and fit, tapered sharply to an emaciated waist, his hip bones peeking out from tightly wrapped flesh. His thighs, powerful and strong, relented and submitted to his exposed kneecaps. His hands, broad and long-fingers, capable and able to give her the most exquisite pleasure, were perfect… if one could look past the fact that the bones were exposed down to the first knuckle of every finger.

It was ironic, she thought now, that she should love so deeply a man who considered himself, in some ways accurately, less than whole… and yet that same man was more alive and more real to her than anyone she'd ever known in her life.

But what he didn't understand, what he couldn't trust, was that where he lacked substance physically, he balanced out everywhere else. He was perfectly suited to her, she knew, and if given the chance, they would do quite well making a life together.

She felt different, she realized, somewhere deep inside her. Two hours ago, she had felt her passion change into a vicious possessiveness, had felt an unmistakable need to make him hers. The fact that he'd gladly laid back and allowed it, had welcomed it even, was more telling than she expected he realized.

She'd needed it, she thought. And because he'd known it, he'd been more tha happy to allow it.

To her mind, looking down at him now, it was suddenly apparent to her that if she made it clear how badly she needed him in her life, he just might be helpless to refuse her.

She felt a small burst of triumph burst through her even as it was smothered with guilt.

She could, maddeningly enough, justify his pigheaded decision to leave her behind. But she couldn't justify using his love for her to force him not to.

So, she thought sadly, laying her head to his chest gently, this is indeed how it will end. Because he can't stay, and I can't make him.

Her eyes closed in grief as his arms came around her in his sleep, and she wished she could find solace in anger instead of this terrible acceptance.

The silence between them had changed subtly, Jehann thought later that night. They'd been travelling for a couple of hours before the thought had occurred to him, and she hadn't spoken. She was mounted in front of him and had twisted in the saddle, sitting sideways and leaning against him, tucking her head under his chin. Her arms were wrapped around his ribs and he tightened his arms around her instinctively.

They would reach the borders of Southshore the next night, he knew.

His teeth ground together and he searched desperately for relief, for a sense of anticipation of escaping this exquisite torment… but it had vanished.

To curse himself for being so intimate with her would do no good, he thought tiredly. Besides… the thought of regretting something so precious seemed like sacrilege.

But her silence spoke volumes to him. When he'd woken earlier to find her looking down at him, her eyes had lost their seeking, pleading look. Her face had lost its look of indecision, and he knew somehow that while he'd slept, she'd come to accept his decision to leave her behind.

It meant she had no hope remaining.

The thought should have liberated him, he knew. His biggest obstacle had always been, through this journey, standing strong against the blind hope she'd had, the hope that he was back in her life, that he wouldn't leave her behind again. With that hope gonw, he knew on some level that he should have been glad… she wouldn't fight him, and she wouldn't tear out his soul by begging.

He was wrong, he realized wearily. His biggest obstacle, unbeknownst to him until now, was leaving her behind and knowing she wouldn't look for him this time.

This time, there would be no questions. There would be no watching the horizon for him, no stopping to listen every time something moved in the brush behind her garden. This time, there would be no agony, no confusion… but no light at the end of the tunnel.

It seemed no matter which direction he chose, he would be hurting her.

The following day, their last together, dawned wet. The rain blowing in from the coast reached them as they made camp, and before long the small outcropping of rock that they'd found refuge under was streaming water, leaving the small space inside shrouded in a misty sort of privacy screen. As Jehann watched, Mairwen stood at the edge of the outcropping and stared out into the rainy morning, memorizing her features as she turned back to him, her face impassive. He held a hand out, still astonished and humbled when she immediately came to him, crowding close.

He laid her out on the ground and followed, undressing her slowly and feeling her do the same for him, and there was no teasing between them this time. No laughter, no words… just the two of them, meeting each other as equals.

They came together smoothly, both of them splintering at the perfection of it, and Jehann looked down at her, braced on his elbows. Dragging his thumbs across her forehead, he dropped his head and kissed her ear, feeling her breathing harsh against his cheek. "Beloved," he said roughly in his native language, the word being drawn out of him on a groan as she started to move. Right before he lost all control, he continued in Gutterspeak, gasping, "By the gods, paladin… I'm so sorry."

With that, before she could breathlessly ask for a translation, he crushed her lips with his own and proceeded to claim her as roughly as she'd claimed him the day before. Crying out, clinging to him, she threw her head back and let him drag her with him.

This is the last time I'll feel this, she thought suddenly, and as she stiffened underneath him and found that explosive place that only had could take her to, she cried out in both pleasure and grief, arching underneath him, hearing him say something in his rough language as he joined her.

"Mine," he growled in Gutterspeak, feeling her arch under his powerful thrusts, seeing the blank look in her eyes, and the thought alone was enough to send him over to meet her.

He collapsed a few moments later, shaking and groaning, laying his forehead to the ground and wondering, dimly, if he had the strength to lift his weight off of her. Weakly, he felt her hands relax on his back, her nails no longer digging into him, and felt her head move, her lips weakly touching his ear. "I love you," she whispered in Common, and startled, he realized that there was apparently one phrase he still remembered from being human.

As much as she'd tried not to, Mairwen fell asleep soon after Jehann had rolled off of her, lulled by the security of being pulled immediately into his arms and feeling him drag the blankets up and over them. The rain was hypnotic, and before she fell asleep, she yawned deeply and said, her voice slurred, "I don't want to sleep this day away."

As her eyes closed, she felt his lips touch her forehead and he whispered, "Rest, Mairwen. I'll still be here when you wake."

Her last thought as she fell asleep was that she really should protest, really should fight harder to make sure she got every available moment out of their last day together… but her body demanded sleep as often as it demanded food these days, especially in light of the very unique activities she'd been allowing it to enjoy.

She slept for most of the day, leaving Jehann to pass the longest day of his life in silence. The rain let up around mid-afternoon, and as he watched, the sun started peeking through the trees, making the water dropping off of the trees sparkle like diamonds as they fell.

With a mixture of dismay and relief, he felt himself emotionally locking himself away as the day wore on. I can't face this night, he thought more than once, and every time he thought it, his stomach would tighten and he'd feel himself withdraw a little bit further inside himself.

By the time she woke at dusk, feeling his lips on her neck and his hands stroking up her sides, he felt sufficiently prepared for what was coming. Needing her, humbled when she came out of sleep needing him just as much, he made love to her one last time as the day's last light faded, gently guiding her to her own release. He moved inside of her in a smooth caress, over and over, and when they found each other in that incredible moment, they clung to what they knew was already lost.


	18. Chapter 17

_**Chapter 15**_

_**The Shores of Alterac**_

_**Mairwen supposed, much later, that she should have been grateful… as stifling as she found Southshore, and as impatient as she was to return to her plot of land, there was really nowhere better suited to remain and regain her skills. Southshore, while small, was the Alliance's only base in the Hillsbrad Foothills, and as such it was fully equipped with just about every kind of service and establishment. As Helena worked on healing the last of her minor issues (Patrick, bless him, hadn't been nearly as powerful a priest as Helena), Mairwen was fed a staggering amount of food over the next few weeks, and as a result, her health fairly bloomed. Under the watchful eye of the local paladin trainer, Mairwen's spirit finally recovered from the trauma of the Undercity enough to start generating her mana again, so essential to her in battle, and the local smiths soon had her wearing and using varying degrees of plate armour and weapons. **_

_**Though she was kept so busy that she barely had time to get her bearings between one form of training and the next, she thought of Jehann on an almost constant basis. It was a much different kind of hurt, she realized almost immediately… this time, there was no confusion and no fooling herself into thinking he'd be back. No, this time the pain came from not only the new level of intimacy they were now expected to live without, but from the knowledge, quiet and sad inside her, that she would likely never see him again.**_

_**Still, she was immensely grateful to him for what he'd done for her, from rescuing her to letting her know, even if it was briefly, what it was like to be loved by him. **_

_**She'd been in Southshore only a couple of days when a bedraggled Dwarf had rode into town, favouring a wounded arm, with tales of a massive Horde raid on the freshly-captured Tarren Mill that morning. The Alliance, he was furious to report, had lost their tenuous grip on the base, and the Horde was even now resettling, killing any stragglers they found within the village that hadn't been lucky enough to flee in time. **_

_**Mairwen, idly, could only wonder if Jehann had been among them.**_

_**A little over a month after she'd stumbled into the village, Mairwen was leaving it. Atop her warhorse, she laid a hand to his neck and was, once again, infinitely glad that she'd regained sufficient mana to perform the summoning spell that all paladins learned, the spell that would bring their steed to them in an instant should they be parted. **_

_**She was being faced with countless 'firsts', she discovered… since she never expected to be leaving the Underity alive, everything felt, in a surreal way, like she was experiencing it for the first time. The narrow road that led from Southshore to the main thoroughfare, for example… she'd traversed it countless times in the past, on her way to or from her months on duty. Now, however, it was all new to her, and she took in every shadow, every tree as if she may never see them again, memorizing them.**_

_**She was so grateful to be alive that she ached.**_

_**Perversely, and to the shock of the citizens of Southshore, she held no ill will to the Forsaken for her captivity… though she'd been vague on how she'd escaped, she felt it important for her people to be careful when out and about and so she'd shared, briefly, the story of her capture. When asked about her lack of hatred for a people who'd tortured her, she'd simply pointed out that a few bad seeds didn't taint the entire society… and then, with eyes hard as steel, she told them that if she ever encountered Keever in battle, however, she'd gladly wreak her revenge.**_

_**The trip through Hillsbrad was mostly uneventful, even with the heightened security around Tarren Mill. That evening, as she rode past the road that jutted off to the east, leading back to the Mill, she met a rather large group of Deathguards, obviously on patrol. **_

_**They gave her a cursory look to assess whether she was a threat, but she was wearing only partial armour and none of it would withstand an attack. Holding her head high, she met the glowing eyes of their captain and nodded politely, her heart feeling oddly bruised.**_

_**It seemed the glowing eyes of the Forsaken no longer reminded her of just her brother.**_

_**The majority of the contingent of guards jeered at her, speaking harshly in their language, and she paid them no attention, even when one of them rattled his sword in his scabbard. Instead, she held the eyes of the captain as she drew even with them.**_

_**He returned her gaze steadily… more seasoned than the others, he knew she was no threat, and that she only sought to pass. Lifting a hand, he motioned for his soldiers to allow her to pass, and then returned his gaze to hers, intrigued by any human who could look at them with no disgust or fear in her eyes.**_

_**She smiled faintly and nodded in thanks. As she passed, she sent the captain a grateful smile… she wanted no trouble, and was glad he wouldn't give her any. "My thanks, Deathguard," she said in Orcish.**_

_**He blinked, startled, and one of his soldiers growled, clearly suspicious. Sending the young recruit a withering lok, he looked back to the paladin and bowed slightly. In rough Orcish, he spoke to her, awkwardly… he hadn't spoken civilly to a human in years. "It's a rare human who bothers to learn our tongues."**_

_**She nodded, her lips tilting almost sadly in a small smile. "Safe patrol, soldier," she said in farewell, and then spurred her warhorse to a gallop, proceeding north towards the mountain pass.**_

_**The captain glared at his men. "When we are in battle," he barked, "you can feel free to be an ass, every one of you. But when you meet a member of the Alliance who not only speaks civilly, but is also much more seasoned than yourself, by the Abyss you will hold your tongue!"**_

_**Subdued, his soldiers shifted in their boots, uncomfortable. The guard shook his head, disgusted. "Until you've been walking the corridors of the Undercity for as long as I've been," he said sharply, "and have learned a thing or two about when it's appropriate to pick a fight, just try to stay alive, will you? Leave the politics to your betters."**_

_**He spun on a heel. "Back in formation!" he barked, startling his confused men into complying, and as they made their way further along their patrol route, the older man sighed mightily, casting his eyes to the sky, asking for patience.**_

_**Honestly, he thought sourly, thinking of the damage that that one paladin could have done if she'd been easily riled. It's worse than rasing children. **_

_**It was many hours later before Mairwen could think back on the encounter without feeling tears prick her eyes. By the Light, she thought furiously, swiping at her face. I haven't cried since he left… I won't start now!**_

_**Sighing heavily, she looked ahead, trying to guage the distance left to her home, and realized she'd never again be able to interact, no matter how politely, with a Forsaken without remembering him, missing him, feeling all over again how much it hurt to slide off of that damn horse and let him leave. The seasoned Deathguard had cautiously met her own civility with his own, and she was suddenly angry. **_

_**If a bloody Deathguard who'd spent the last month watching humans kill his people could bring himself to speak politely to her, why the hell couldn't a pig-headed mage believe her when she said she understood what the words 'cross-faction' and 'illegal' meant…?**_

_**Forget it, she thought finally. Just forget it… there's nothing to be done about it now, and being angry about it won't solve anything.**_

_**Forcing her black mood to pass, she made the trip through the mountains quickly, no further reasons to stop presenting themselves. She did, however, have one moment of amusement, as she passed the old ruins of Alterac… a lone ogre wandered near the road, presumedly a scout, and spotted her as she came into view. With amusement, she saw the huge creature look her over almost critically, idly caressing his huge club… and then turn away with a grunt, obviously feeling she would be too much trouble to bother with.**_

_**You know you've recovered, she thought with a smile, when a 9-foot ogre won't even bother testing your skills.**_

_**After that, as she descended down the other side of the mountain, her heart swelled further with every stride of her warhorse. The lake, spread out before her, made her catch her breath… it seemed only days ago that she'd been on the other side, barely alive and looking longingly across the water, feeling as if she'd never get home. **_

_**That thought, however, reminded her of the events that had followed, and the heartache effectively killed the exhileration.**_

_**There was no formal path to her cottage… she'd never bothered to create one, seeing as how Oliver was the only one she wanted visiting… but she remembered the forest as if she'd never left, and finally, after almost a year of hell and heartache… finally, she broke out of the forest on one side of her property.**_

_**Her eyes filled with tears and she reined in her horse, taking in the picture that her cottage made. It looked, she realized, as if she'd never left… the garden wasn't over-run with weeds, the property looked maintained, as tidy as it had been when she'd been looking after it. She was confused, trying to figure out how such a thing was possible, and had just settled on the fact that someone must have taken over her home in her absence, and was startled when a sound had her looking to the hitching post.**_

_**Her breath caught in her throat and her heart stopped beating for a few seconds before it took off, pounding in her chest.**_

_**There was a Forsaken warhorse tethered to it.**_

_**She swallowed thickly, and even though the fact that the warhorse wasn't Echo had already registered, she was still helpless against the hope, and flew off her saddle, landing at a dead run.**_

_**She reached the door and was ripping it open before her common sense could catch up to her…**_

…_**and the man sitting at her table, scared out of his wits, jumped to his feet with a yell. "By the Abyss!" he yelled, whipping to face her, his angry face melting into one of the most brilliant, beloved smiles she'd ever seen.**_

"_**Well it's about time you got home," Oliver grinned, "I've been waiting for well over a month. Did you extend your tours in Southshore, or what?"**_

_**He doesn't know, she realized. He doesn't know what's happened.**_

…_**He's alive!**_

_**And with that, the stress of the last year came crashing down on her, and she fell apart in her brother's arms.**_

_**That night, once Mairwen's hysterical crying jag had passed, they went outside together to get her warhorse properly tethered, and moved Oliver's warhorse, a steed he'd named Shade, to the other end of her cottage, downwind of its spooked, living counterpart. Afterwards, they moved to the dock, sitting on the end and getting reacquainted.**_

_**Oliver's arm around his sister's shoulders, he looked up at the sky, the western horizon still glowing as the sun finished its descent. "I'm sorry, Mairwen, that I haven't been back… believe me when I say, they definitely thought I was feeding information to the Alliance… they kept me under constant surveillance while I was in Northrend, and monitored all of my correspondence."**_

_**She rolled her eyes. Her face was still red and swollen from weeping. "Your people," she said bluntly, "are idiots."**_

"_**Indeed," he agreed, his voice serious as he recalled her brief explanation of her past year. Shifting, he sighed. "Can you tell me more about what happened to you, sister?"**_

_**She nodded, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry about falling apart earlier," she said wryly. "I've… been through some stress," she finished, smiling at the understatement. When he smiled back, waiting for her to continue, she looked down at the water.**_

"_**I spent the day picking flowers almost a year ago. I was unarmed with no armour, and a passing group of Forsaken scouts saw me as easy spoils of war." She paused. "They were right."**_

_**She talked long into the night, telling him everything. He needed, like Jehann, no details about what had been done to her in the Apothecarium… after all, the Undercity was their home city, and they were well versed in what sorts of practices happened in the city's deepest corners. **_

_**He spoke for the first time when she told him how she'd escaped, and his eyes narrowed in shock. "Jehann! The mage you'd befriended?"**_

_**She nodded. "The priest who was ordered to heal me found him when I asked for him. He thought he was granting a dying woman's last request… he took pity on me."**_

_**The thought of anyone taking pity on his sister made Oliver shift, angry, but he held his tongue as she continued. "Suffice it to say that Jehann certainly hadn't counted on finding me, after 7 long years, in his basement… but when he did, he threw me over the back of his horse and rode out, and then spent the next week with me as we travelled to Southshore."**_

_**Oliver's admiration for the mage, considerable when he learned he'd spirited her out of the one room no one ever escaped from, tripled. "Gods, sister. He went above and beyond."**_

_**She shifted. "Not… not when you consider his motives."**_

_**He frowned, puzzled. "…His motives?"**_

_**She sighed. "We fell in love back when he was still visiting me here, Oliver."**_

_**Oliver paused, startled, before he started to laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well then!" he laughed, "that certainly complicates things, doesn't it." He looked around. "So… where is he? If you're in love?"**_

_**She shot him a glare. "Like he did 7 years ago, he decided for us both that he wasn't good enough for me… and he left me behind once he was sure I was safe."**_

_**Oliver's eyes, dancing only a moment before, narrowed in confusion. "…Left you behind?" Puzzled, he ran a hands over his smooth scalp. "I don't understand."**_

_**She shrugged sadly. "He told me, before he left me in Southshore, that if he stayed with me, he'd be robbing me of all the things I have a right to expect from life."**_

_**He whistled, long and low. "Well… sounds serious between you two."**_

"_**It could have been," she agreed softly, nodding. "It still is for me."**_

_**Oliver studied her profile and narrowed his eyes. "Just how serious are we talking?"**_

_**Her lips curved, amused, and she met his eyes. "I'm his," she said simply, and the sadness in her voice made his chest constrict. "I always will be."**_

_**He paused, then slid an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "Well… he may be back," he offered half-heartedly, but she simply smiled and shook her head, her eyes sad. Trusting her judgement, he turned his eyes to the lake and rested his cheek on her hair, thinking about the shy, painfully adoring young mage he'd met that night so long ago… he'd scared the daylights out of Oliver, and for an instant the rogue had seen his execution flashing before his eyes… family or not, being here was treason.**_

_**But no, the mage had surprised him on several counts that night… and it hadn't taken the rogue long to see how much he adored his sister.**_

_**Being Forsaken, he could see both sides of the situation between the mage & the paladin, and with a grudging respect, he knew what drove the mage to turn away happiness.**_

_**It was impossible, Oliver knew, for a Forsaken to actually believe he stood a chance at a normal life, to believe he was worth fighting for, that someone else (someone living, Oliver thought) wouldn't come along and steal that happiness right out from under them. It was a fact that Oliver knew from his own experiences.**_

_**Not willing to dwell on his own pathetic love life, however, he simply held his sister and made a mental note to thank the mage once he got back to Northrend… if it weren't for him, Oliver would never have known what had happened to his sister, and for that, he owed the mage a life-debt.**_


	19. Chapter 18

_**Chapter 15**_

_**The Shores of Alterac**_

_**Mairwen supposed, much later, that she should have been grateful… as stifling as she found Southshore, and as impatient as she was to return to her plot of land, there was really nowhere better suited to remain and regain her skills. Southshore, while small, was the Alliance's only base in the Hillsbrad Foothills, and as such it was fully equipped with just about every kind of service and establishment. As Helena worked on healing the last of her minor issues (Patrick, bless him, hadn't been nearly as powerful a priest as Helena), Mairwen was fed a staggering amount of food over the next few weeks, and as a result, her health fairly bloomed. Under the watchful eye of the local paladin trainer, Mairwen's spirit finally recovered from the trauma of the Undercity enough to start generating her mana again, so essential to her in battle, and the local smiths soon had her wearing and using varying degrees of plate armour and weapons. **_

_**Though she was kept so busy that she barely had time to get her bearings between one form of training and the next, she thought of Jehann on an almost constant basis. It was a much different kind of hurt, she realized almost immediately… this time, there was no confusion and no fooling herself into thinking he'd be back. No, this time the pain came from not only the new level of intimacy they were now expected to live without, but from the knowledge, quiet and sad inside her, that she would likely never see him again.**_

_**Still, she was immensely grateful to him for what he'd done for her, from rescuing her to letting her know, even if it was briefly, what it was like to be loved by him. **_

_**She'd been in Southshore only a couple of days when a bedraggled Dwarf had rode into town, favouring a wounded arm, with tales of a massive Horde raid on the freshly-captured Tarren Mill that morning. The Alliance, he was furious to report, had lost their tenuous grip on the base, and the Horde was even now resettling, killing any stragglers they found within the village that hadn't been lucky enough to flee in time. **_

_**Mairwen, idly, could only wonder if Jehann had been among them.**_

_**A little over a month after she'd stumbled into the village, Mairwen was leaving it. Atop her warhorse, she laid a hand to his neck and was, once again, infinitely glad that she'd regained sufficient mana to perform the summoning spell that all paladins learned, the spell that would bring their steed to them in an instant should they be parted. **_

_**She was being faced with countless 'firsts', she discovered… since she never expected to be leaving the Underity alive, everything felt, in a surreal way, like she was experiencing it for the first time. The narrow road that led from Southshore to the main thoroughfare, for example… she'd traversed it countless times in the past, on her way to or from her months on duty. Now, however, it was all new to her, and she took in every shadow, every tree as if she may never see them again, memorizing them.**_

_**She was so grateful to be alive that she ached.**_

_**Perversely, and to the shock of the citizens of Southshore, she held no ill will to the Forsaken for her captivity… though she'd been vague on how she'd escaped, she felt it important for her people to be careful when out and about and so she'd shared, briefly, the story of her capture. When asked about her lack of hatred for a people who'd tortured her, she'd simply pointed out that a few bad seeds didn't taint the entire society… and then, with eyes hard as steel, she told them that if she ever encountered Keever in battle, however, she'd gladly wreak her revenge.**_

_**The trip through Hillsbrad was mostly uneventful, even with the heightened security around Tarren Mill. That evening, as she rode past the road that jutted off to the east, leading back to the Mill, she met a rather large group of Deathguards, obviously on patrol. **_

_**They gave her a cursory look to assess whether she was a threat, but she was wearing only partial armour and none of it would withstand an attack. Holding her head high, she met the glowing eyes of their captain and nodded politely, her heart feeling oddly bruised.**_

_**It seemed the glowing eyes of the Forsaken no longer reminded her of just her brother.**_

_**The majority of the contingent of guards jeered at her, speaking harshly in their language, and she paid them no attention, even when one of them rattled his sword in his scabbard. Instead, she held the eyes of the captain as she drew even with them.**_

_**He returned her gaze steadily… more seasoned than the others, he knew she was no threat, and that she only sought to pass. Lifting a hand, he motioned for his soldiers to allow her to pass, and then returned his gaze to hers, intrigued by any human who could look at them with no disgust or fear in her eyes.**_

_**She smiled faintly and nodded in thanks. As she passed, she sent the captain a grateful smile… she wanted no trouble, and was glad he wouldn't give her any. "My thanks, Deathguard," she said in Orcish.**_

_**He blinked, startled, and one of his soldiers growled, clearly suspicious. Sending the young recruit a withering lok, he looked back to the paladin and bowed slightly. In rough Orcish, he spoke to her, awkwardly… he hadn't spoken civilly to a human in years. "It's a rare human who bothers to learn our tongues."**_

_**She nodded, her lips tilting almost sadly in a small smile. "Safe patrol, soldier," she said in farewell, and then spurred her warhorse to a gallop, proceeding north towards the mountain pass.**_

_**The captain glared at his men. "When we are in battle," he barked, "you can feel free to be an ass, every one of you. But when you meet a member of the Alliance who not only speaks civilly, but is also much more seasoned than yourself, by the Abyss you will hold your tongue!"**_

_**Subdued, his soldiers shifted in their boots, uncomfortable. The guard shook his head, disgusted. "Until you've been walking the corridors of the Undercity for as long as I've been," he said sharply, "and have learned a thing or two about when it's appropriate to pick a fight, just try to stay alive, will you? Leave the politics to your betters."**_

_**He spun on a heel. "Back in formation!" he barked, startling his confused men into complying, and as they made their way further along their patrol route, the older man sighed mightily, casting his eyes to the sky, asking for patience.**_

_**Honestly, he thought sourly, thinking of the damage that that one paladin could have done if she'd been easily riled. It's worse than rasing children. **_

_**It was many hours later before Mairwen could think back on the encounter without feeling tears prick her eyes. By the Light, she thought furiously, swiping at her face. I haven't cried since he left… I won't start now!**_

_**Sighing heavily, she looked ahead, trying to guage the distance left to her home, and realized she'd never again be able to interact, no matter how politely, with a Forsaken without remembering him, missing him, feeling all over again how much it hurt to slide off of that damn horse and let him leave. The seasoned Deathguard had cautiously met her own civility with his own, and she was suddenly angry. **_

_**If a bloody Deathguard who'd spent the last month watching humans kill his people could bring himself to speak politely to her, why the hell couldn't a pig-headed mage believe her when she said she understood what the words 'cross-faction' and 'illegal' meant…?**_

_**Forget it, she thought finally. Just forget it… there's nothing to be done about it now, and being angry about it won't solve anything.**_

_**Forcing her black mood to pass, she made the trip through the mountains quickly, no further reasons to stop presenting themselves. She did, however, have one moment of amusement, as she passed the old ruins of Alterac… a lone ogre wandered near the road, presumedly a scout, and spotted her as she came into view. With amusement, she saw the huge creature look her over almost critically, idly caressing his huge club… and then turn away with a grunt, obviously feeling she would be too much trouble to bother with.**_

_**You know you've recovered, she thought with a smile, when a 9-foot ogre won't even bother testing your skills.**_

_**After that, as she descended down the other side of the mountain, her heart swelled further with every stride of her warhorse. The lake, spread out before her, made her catch her breath… it seemed only days ago that she'd been on the other side, barely alive and looking longingly across the water, feeling as if she'd never get home. **_

_**That thought, however, reminded her of the events that had followed, and the heartache effectively killed the exhileration.**_

_**There was no formal path to her cottage… she'd never bothered to create one, seeing as how Oliver was the only one she wanted visiting… but she remembered the forest as if she'd never left, and finally, after almost a year of hell and heartache… finally, she broke out of the forest on one side of her property.**_

_**Her eyes filled with tears and she reined in her horse, taking in the picture that her cottage made. It looked, she realized, as if she'd never left… the garden wasn't over-run with weeds, the property looked maintained, as tidy as it had been when she'd been looking after it. She was confused, trying to figure out how such a thing was possible, and had just settled on the fact that someone must have taken over her home in her absence, and was startled when a sound had her looking to the hitching post.**_

_**Her breath caught in her throat and her heart stopped beating for a few seconds before it took off, pounding in her chest.**_

_**There was a Forsaken warhorse tethered to it.**_

_**She swallowed thickly, and even though the fact that the warhorse wasn't Echo had already registered, she was still helpless against the hope, and flew off her saddle, landing at a dead run.**_

_**She reached the door and was ripping it open before her common sense could catch up to her…**_

…_**and the man sitting at her table, scared out of his wits, jumped to his feet with a yell. "By the Abyss!" he yelled, whipping to face her, his angry face melting into one of the most brilliant, beloved smiles she'd ever seen.**_

"_**Well it's about time you got home," Oliver grinned, "I've been waiting for well over a month. Did you extend your tours in Southshore, or what?"**_

_**He doesn't know, she realized. He doesn't know what's happened.**_

…_**He's alive!**_

_**And with that, the stress of the last year came crashing down on her, and she fell apart in her brother's arms.**_

_**That night, once Mairwen's hysterical crying jag had passed, they went outside together to get her warhorse properly tethered, and moved Oliver's warhorse, a steed he'd named Shade, to the other end of her cottage, downwind of its spooked, living counterpart. Afterwards, they moved to the dock, sitting on the end and getting reacquainted.**_

_**Oliver's arm around his sister's shoulders, he looked up at the sky, the western horizon still glowing as the sun finished its descent. "I'm sorry, Mairwen, that I haven't been back… believe me when I say, they definitely thought I was feeding information to the Alliance… they kept me under constant surveillance while I was in Northrend, and monitored all of my correspondence."**_

_**She rolled her eyes. Her face was still red and swollen from weeping. "Your people," she said bluntly, "are idiots."**_

"_**Indeed," he agreed, his voice serious as he recalled her brief explanation of her past year. Shifting, he sighed. "Can you tell me more about what happened to you, sister?"**_

_**She nodded, taking a deep breath. "I'm sorry about falling apart earlier," she said wryly. "I've… been through some stress," she finished, smiling at the understatement. When he smiled back, waiting for her to continue, she looked down at the water.**_

"_**I spent the day picking flowers almost a year ago. I was unarmed with no armour, and a passing group of Forsaken scouts saw me as easy spoils of war." She paused. "They were right."**_

_**She talked long into the night, telling him everything. He needed, like Jehann, no details about what had been done to her in the Apothecarium… after all, the Undercity was their home city, and they were well versed in what sorts of practices happened in the city's deepest corners. **_

_**He spoke for the first time when she told him how she'd escaped, and his eyes narrowed in shock. "Jehann! The mage you'd befriended?"**_

_**She nodded. "The priest who was ordered to heal me found him when I asked for him. He thought he was granting a dying woman's last request… he took pity on me."**_

_**The thought of anyone taking pity on his sister made Oliver shift, angry, but he held his tongue as she continued. "Suffice it to say that Jehann certainly hadn't counted on finding me, after 7 long years, in his basement… but when he did, he threw me over the back of his horse and rode out, and then spent the next week with me as we travelled to Southshore."**_

_**Oliver's admiration for the mage, considerable when he learned he'd spirited her out of the one room no one ever escaped from, tripled. "Gods, sister. He went above and beyond."**_

_**She shifted. "Not… not when you consider his motives."**_

_**He frowned, puzzled. "…His motives?"**_

_**She sighed. "We fell in love back when he was still visiting me here, Oliver."**_

_**Oliver paused, startled, before he started to laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Well then!" he laughed, "that certainly complicates things, doesn't it." He looked around. "So… where is he? If you're in love?"**_

_**She shot him a glare. "Like he did 7 years ago, he decided for us both that he wasn't good enough for me… and he left me behind once he was sure I was safe."**_

_**Oliver's eyes, dancing only a moment before, narrowed in confusion. "…Left you behind?" Puzzled, he ran a hands over his smooth scalp. "I don't understand."**_

_**She shrugged sadly. "He told me, before he left me in Southshore, that if he stayed with me, he'd be robbing me of all the things I have a right to expect from life."**_

_**He whistled, long and low. "Well… sounds serious between you two."**_

"_**It could have been," she agreed softly, nodding. "It still is for me."**_

_**Oliver studied her profile and narrowed his eyes. "Just how serious are we talking?"**_

_**Her lips curved, amused, and she met his eyes. "I'm his," she said simply, and the sadness in her voice made his chest constrict. "I always will be."**_

_**He paused, then slid an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "Well… he may be back," he offered half-heartedly, but she simply smiled and shook her head, her eyes sad. Trusting her judgement, he turned his eyes to the lake and rested his cheek on her hair, thinking about the shy, painfully adoring young mage he'd met that night so long ago… he'd scared the daylights out of Oliver, and for an instant the rogue had seen his execution flashing before his eyes… family or not, being here was treason.**_

_**But no, the mage had surprised him on several counts that night… and it hadn't taken the rogue long to see how much he adored his sister.**_

_**Being Forsaken, he could see both sides of the situation between the mage & the paladin, and with a grudging respect, he knew what drove the mage to turn away happiness.**_

_**It was impossible, Oliver knew, for a Forsaken to actually believe he stood a chance at a normal life, to believe he was worth fighting for, that someone else (someone living, Oliver thought) wouldn't come along and steal that happiness right out from under them. It was a fact that Oliver knew from his own experiences.**_

_**Not willing to dwell on his own pathetic love life, however, he simply held his sister and made a mental note to thank the mage once he got back to Northrend… if it weren't for him, Oliver would never have known what had happened to his sister, and for that, he owed the mage a life-debt.**_


	20. Chapter 19

Chapter 14

Southshore

Seated on Echo, Jehann looked down as Mairwen finished gathering their supplies. Waiting until she'd tied the last saddlebag to the saddle, he held a hand down to her silently, inviting her up with him.

She froze, staring at the hand that was inviting her to begin the worst night of her life, and for a terrible moment, Jehann was afraid she was going to refuse.

Then her hand was in his and he pulled her up in front of him, settling her sideways on the saddle and snapping Echo's reins. Relieved, he glanced down to the top of her head as she automatically rested her temple to his chest, closing her eyes. "It won't be long. A matter of a few hours, no more."

She nodded silently and turned her head, laying her lips to his neck. With a sharp word, Jehann urged Echo to a gallop.

There must be a special reward waiting for me at the end of my life, Jehann thought miles later when she still hadn't spoken. She rode listlessly in front of him, leaning against him, and with a tight chest he realized she was doing her own mental preparations for what was coming. And as much as he wanted to tease her into smiling, he knew he didn't have the right… after all, how could he rob her of her mental defenses when he'd spent all day working on his own?

He was startled, therefore, when she spoke a few minutes later.

"You could visit."

Sighing softly, he dropped a kiss to the top of her head and said roughly against her hair, "You know I cannot. Especially now."

She nodded, not surprised, and sighed heavily. "If you say so."

He lifted a brow, preparing for an argument, but there was nothing beyond acceptance in her voice.

He decided to change the subject. "Will you return to your cottage?"

She considered not allowing him to distract her from her last-ditch attempt to bring him around, but finally relented. Her shoulders dropped in defeat. "Of course. As soon as I'm strong enough to make it over the mountain pass."

He nodded, pleased. He liked… no, he NEEDED… the knowledge that she'd be right where she belonged, in th same cottage she'd been in when he left the first time.

He was distracted when she moved restlessly against him. "I don't intend to stay in Southshore any longer than necessary. I haven't been happy there for a long time… once I'm well, I'm going to seek out something new, I think."

He tilted his head, intrigued. "Such as?"

She shrugged, unsure. "I've thought off and on about working for a year down south… Booty Bay always has need of a strong back, and the climate is pleasant." Trying for light-heartedness, she sent him a small smile. "I could use a year sitting under palm trees, I think."

He nodded, smiling. "I've always been fond of the goblin town, myself. They're an intriguing race of people, very creative, very driven."

She nodded in agreement. "I've also been considering relocating off the continent altogether. I haven't been to Northrend in a very long time… from what I heard before I was captured, things up there have progressed quite quickly."

He snorted. "Quite the choice you're faced with… palm trees or glaciers." Smirking, he glanced down at her. "No happy mediums for you."

"No," she agreed, meeting his eyes, "though compromise will always be my favored choice."

Sending her a tolerant look, he allowed the small dig, and she smiled helplessly. "I won't apologize for wanting this to end differently, mage."

He looked down at her and reached up, brushing the back of his hand over her cheek. "I know."

With that, he pulled her to him and embraced her tightly. With a sigh, she rested her temple to his chest and waited, her stomach in knots, for the inevitable moment when she would have to dismount.

Alone.

By the time that moment came, however, she was so exhausted from the stress of waiting that she felt numb. She supposed she should be grateful, she thought wearily. Surely numb was better than devastated, and up until recently she'd been convinced she'd be ending this encounter just that… in tears.

Instead, she took a deep breath as Jehann reluctantly drew Echo to a halt and was surprised, and gratified, when the breath was steadying.

Jehann cleared his throat. "I dare not go any closer, Mairwen."

She nodded, examining her surroundings and getting her bearings. "I understand."

She squinted, the terrain hard to make out in the dark. It was just past midnight, she knew, and though there weren't many, she could see a few lingering lights in the distance through the trees and beyond a broad field.

Southshore.

She turned back to him, looking up at his face, and saw him clench his jaw. He's preparing, she thought with tired amusement, for my last-ditch effort to make him change his mind.

She surprised him by leaning up and kissing him gently, pulling back when he would have reached for her. Her eyes were clear and her head high, and when she spoke, he voice was even. "I won't be here more than a month."

He nodded, and she continued. "I'm not going to make this more difficult for you, mage. But I won't make it easier either… so before I go, since this is my last chance to tell you, there's something I need to say."

He tensed, and she held a hand up. "For making this decision without me, I think I'm owed at least that."

Grudging, he groaned in surrender, holding up his hands before her. "Just go easy, paladin."

She nodded. "Only the truth, Jehann."

Great, he thought sourly. As if telling me the truth will make this easier.

She took a deep breath. "I know this won't make a difference," she said quietly, "but my feelings will never change. I will always be yours, Jehann, and will always wait for the day you'll come back to stay. There will be no one else."

He groaned harshly, screwing his eyes shut. "Mairwen, this is unfair."

"No," she said firmly, "it's not. You can leave me here, and you can go on with your life as if we never found each other again… but this time, I won't allow you to do it without knowing exactly how I feel about it."

He opened his eyes when she grabbed his hand, squeezing. Her voice was low and fervent. "I love you," she whispered harshly. "You blind, stubborn idiot of a mage. You can't even say it back."

He released his breath in a long rush. "If I say it," he said hoarsely, "I'll be making you a promise I can't keep."

She nodded, resigned. "I know." Softening, she rested a hand to his cheek. "Thank you for rescuing me from the Undercity. I meant what I said… I'll thank you for every sunrise I see for the rest of my life."

She leaned forward and kissed him hard. Pulling back, he saw tears in her eyes as she echoed the first time they'd said goodbye 8 years ago, when she'd left him standing dazed and smitten in the middle of a pile of worgen.

"Walk carefully, Jehann."

Swallowing with effort, he nodded past the burning in his throat. "Safe journey home, Mairwen."

As he watched her prepare to slide off of his horse's back, Jehann felt a sudden, insane urge to grab her, to prevent her from leaving. You're a fool, his mind shrieked at him, a towering IDIOT for letting her go! Stop her, you fool, STOP HER!

He jerked in the saddle, reaching out to wrap his arms around her, to keep her with him, to prevent this seperation. To keep them both from going through the same agony they'd gone through 7 years ago.

His arms closed around empty air, and with a rush, he heard her feet hit the ground, saw her straighten, saw her center herself, turn herself towards her own people.

When she looked back up at him, he was once again sitting back in the saddle, his face stricken, his jaw tight. Looking down at her, he nodded once, sharply.

As he wheeled Echo around almost violently, his voice was rough when he spoke for the last time. "Live a long life, Mairwen, and be… be safe."

With that, he barked a harsh command at Echo, and Mairwen heard his voice break in the middle. Startled, the horse shot her one confused look, obviously wondering, after so many days together, why his master was leaving the female behind… and then he leaped forward, carrying the mage back the way they'd come.

Mairwen, numb, watched him go, stood there until long after the sound of Echo's hooves had faded, and then slowly turned back towards Southshore, beginning the slow walk back to the life she'd had before all of this began.

Richard Herrington was sleepy.

Yawning, he tried to resist the temptation to stop his rounds and lean on the side of the building he was patrolling past. It was late… almost three hours past midnight… and his sleep had been poor that day. By the Light, he thought sourly, how I hate the night rotation.

It wouldn't be so bad, he supposed, if his current post was anything like his last… before he'd arrived for his shift rotation here in Southshore, he'd been posted for the 6 months prior to that in Stormwind City, the human capital. While the city could be dull (or so he'd believed), right now he'd take a petty thief or a homeless bum over this endless silence in the small coastal village.

Thinking fondly of the room he had rented in the local inn, and of the barmaid working in said inn who he was beginning to grow quite fond of, he was descending into daydream when a sound from the fields to his left had him stopping short. Resting a hand on the sword hanging at his side, he squinted into the darkness and took a few careful steps towards the edge of the road.

His eyes, accustomed to the dark, had little trouble spotting the woman who came staggering across the field, and with concern he rushed to meet her.

By the Light, he thought in awe as he drew closer. She's as thin as the blasted undead!

"Hail, good lady," he called, lifting a hand in reassurance when she stopped, startled. "Do you require assistance?"

He saw her face relax into a relieved, if exhausted, smile. "Aye, good soldier," she answered, "if you could help me to the inn… I'm afraid I'm in poor shape and I've travelled far."

Nodding, he reached her, astonished all over again at her slight weight as he easily picked her up. "My word," he marvelled, "what ordeal have you been through, good woman, to render you so frail and weak?"

She laughed weakly, a thread of hysteria laced around the edges of it. "Oh, I have quite the tale to tell, sir," she said, letting her head fall onto the man's shoulder as he quickly carried her into the heart of the village. The kilometer she'd walked had just about done her in. "But first I need medical attention."

He nodded, turning and entering the bright lights of the inn. "Hail!" he called out, drawing the attention of the few people inside. He gently lowered her to a chair and she collapsed into it, weak. "I require aid for this good woman. She claims she needs medical attention… where is Helena?"

Mairwen smiled faintly. Helena, she remembered, was the village priest. "If I reember correctly," she said tiredly, "Helena will have been in her bed for hours now, what with all of her little ones wearing her out all day."

As the guard blinked, surprised, the innkeeper approached, studying her closely. "You're familiar with our people, our habits," she said. "What should we call you, so that we may remember you?"

Mairwen felt the insane urge to laugh hysterically. Gods, she thought tiredly. Even after everything I've been through, this place already tires me. "Mairwen," she said weakly. "I haven't been able to report for duty for… for some time," she said, tripping over the words. "But I assure you… it's me."

With shock, the innkeeper studied her even closer before her eyes widened and a delighted smile burst across her face. "Oh thank the Light!" she cried. She turned to the bartender and said, "Byron, go wake Helena! Mairwen's back, and it looks like she's been through a tale or two!"

Nodding, Byron tossed the rag in his hands aside and left the inn quickly as the innkeeper, chattering, dished up a bowl of hot stew and set it in front of the paladin.

Surrounded by warmth, love and old friends, as Mairwen tucked into the first truly hot food she'd had in over 6 months, she realized wearily that she'd changed.

Small-town life apparently didn't suit her any longer, she realized, and vowed to get to work as soon as she could on rebuilding her health.

All the sooner to get back home, she promised herself.


	21. Chapter 20

Chapter 16

Icecrown, 4 Months Later

It was cold.

Scratch that, Jehann thought, shivering. It was DAMN cold.

Whoever said that the undead were comfortable with the cold, he thought sourly, ought to be drawn and quartered.

Shifting on the back of his mount, Jehann laid a gloved hand to the great beast's neck in silent appreciation for the beast's efforts. The beast in question, a massive Netherdrake, cast amused eyes back over its long back, and spoke inside the mage's mind.

_If you continue to shiver with such violence, good mage, I'll be forced to scoop you out of the North Sea._

Jehann snorted in amusement, huddling lower under his cloak and shooting the dragon a wry look. "Just scout the damn island and get me back to dry land," he said, and the ethereal dragon chuckled in his head before falling silent.

Jehann looked down over the drake's flank and lifted a brow.

They were very, very high up.

He retreated back into his cloak, the wind whistling past his face and chilling flesh that should be impervious to cold, he knew… but there was nothing usual about the chill of Northrend, especially when one was dragon-back above the North Sea, flying into the ocean wind. Wanting to get the damn scouting mission over with so he could be done for the day, Jehann kept his grumblings to a minimum out of respect for his drake… the ancient dragon had been his companion for some time, carrying him across the continent more times than he could count, but he was impatient with what he called the "angry buzzing of mortals" and didn't abide petty complaints well.

The drake made a long, wide circuit over the island in question, and Jehann whistled in amazement. Below him was a human settlement, buildings outfitted in reds and whites, and with a chill, he knew he was looking at the largest base for the Scarlet Crusade in the entire world.

He hated the Scarlet Crusade… since their one and only creed was to rid the world of the undead, and since they didn't bother to check for sentience before they started attacking, it was any wonder why.

Gratefully, Jehann felt his old friend shift in the air and start to return the way they'd come. Mentally, he thought of the time remaining in his day, and decided that once he reported his findings back to his superior at Death's Rise, he was damn well heading to Dalaran for a drink and an early night.

Ah, Dalaran, he thought warmly. How he loved that city. As a mage, he could appreciate it in many ways, as it was built by mages and was run by mages… to a mage, strolling the streets of Dalaran was like immersing yourself in your art, and magic could be felt hanging in the very air.

But he could also appreciate the classic beauty of the city, not to mention the top-notch establishments… and the most eclectic mix of people you could ever ask for.

Being a neutral city, Dalaran was host to both the Horde and the Alliance, and since fighting was not tolerated inside the city walls… it was also the perfect place to find a bench near a busy street and watch people as they went about their business.

Of course, he wasn't watching for anyone in particular… just… watching.

Oh hell, he thought tiredly as he submitted his report… you couldn't lie to her, what makes you think you can lie to yourself?

As he asked his drake to carry him to the floating city of Dalaran, he retreated back into his thoughts. Was she alright? Had she returned to her cottage yet? It had been 5 months… surely 5 months among her own people, training and resting and eating, was long enough to see her recover what Keever had robbed from her? Was she lonely? Was she still even on the continent?

Did she lay awake at night and think about him, the way he spent every night walking the streets of Dalaran, thinking about her? Looking for her in every human woman, in every paladin regardless of race, knowing that she was more accessible to him now than she was 8 years ago, and fighting the temptation every night to pay her a visit… on and on, his life extended in front of him in much the same way it had gone for the past 5 months.

I'm going mad, he thought wearily, causing his drake to huff an amused laugh. His drake was well aware of his delimma, and had no real opinion on the matter either way… the dragons were so ancient that the problems of mortals were of little concern to them.

However, his drake thought wryly, it would be a nice change if the mage could think of something else to obsess over every now and then.

That evening, Jehann was in his customary spot… reclining on a bench in one of the quieter areas of the city, staring at the stars, his hands stacked above his head. He was lost in thought, this time reliving one of their more… intimate… days spent together, when his view was suddenly blocked by a large body standing over him.

Blinking, he focussed, frowning slightly. "Can I help you?"

The other man snorted, amused. "Sit up and let me join you, perhaps," he suggested, and with shock, Jehann sat up straight, taking in the heavily armoured rogue grinning down at him.

"Oliver?" he said, stunned, and then he was on his feet, the other man's shoulders in his hands. "By the gods, Oliver, your sister is worried sick about you!"

Oliver laughed, throwing his head back. "Mairwen," he chuckled, "is no longer worried. I've been with her for the past few months."

Hearing her name spoken aloud had Jehann sinking back to the bench, his face paling even further than normal. "You… she's back in her cottage then?"

Oliver nodded, falling onto the bench beside the mage. "Aye," he said, crossing his arms and regarding the mage. "I owe you a life-debt, mage, for returning her to me."

Jehann shot the other man an impatient look. "Don't be ridiculous. I could hardly leave her there… you know what kind of man held her."

Oliver nodded, his eyes burning as he thought of Keever anywhere near his sister. "All the more reason to thank you." He rested a hand on the mage's shoulder. "From my soul, Jehann, thank you… for the rest of whatever life is remaining to me, I'm at your service."

The mage cleared his throat. "Just… look after your sister, rogue, and make sure she lives a long, long life."

Oliver nodded. "I'll make sure of it. Have no fear, mage, I've been absolved of my suspicion among our people and am once again free to keep her out of trouble." He paused. "She has changed a great deal since you left her in Southshore, I'm afraid."

Desperate for any information on her, Jehann leaned forward. "Is she alright?"

"She's alright in the physical sense… she's more the woman I remember," Oliver said. "She's back in her old armour, finally.. And her spells have once again reached the strength they'd been before she was imprisoned." He glanced at the mage, choosing his words carefully. "But she is… dimmed somehow. She laughs rarely, and is quiet in her soul."

Jehann closed his eyes. "Keever," he ground out, "did more damage than I'd realized."

Oliver tilted his head, his expression carefully schooled into a puzzled look. "That's the thing," he said, confused. "She has, for the most part, recovered from her time in our fair city. It's something else that has her saddened, and whatever it is, it's dimming the light inside of her."

Jehann was frozen to the bench, afraid to move, and Oliver continued as if he didn't notice the other man's horror. "I wanted to ask you, as someone who was with her those first days afterwards, if something further happened to her to have her so diminished in her spirit."

Jehann swallowed, staring off into space. "I… I cannot recall, Oliver. She… she was very ill."

Oliver sighed, nodding. "Well, it was worth asking, anyway." He paused, then said suddenly, "You didn't notice her talking in her sleep during your time together, did you?"

Surprised, Jehann met the other man's eyes. "No, never… why?"

Oliver shrugged, standing. "She speaks in her sleep now, disjointed words that make little sense… but most of the time the words are in Orcish."

Jehann tilted his head, intrigued. "Can you make out the words?"

Oliver shrugged. "Last I stayed with her, she had been having a bizarre conversation with someone in her dreams. She asked whoever it was what took them so long." He slid slyly glowing eyes to the mage. "And then called them a stubborn goat."

Bingo, Oliver thought with delight, seeing the mage pale even further. While he hadn't been sure if it was Jehann his sister spoke to in her dream a few nights ago, he'd had his suspicions, and they'd now been confirmed.

His demure little sister had obviously called the mage a stubborn goat during their time together.

He slanted another look to Jehann. "You wouldn't happen to know who she was talking to, would you?"

For the first time, Jehann caught the sly tone to the rogue's voice, and his eyes narrowed in anger when he saw the knowing look in the other man's eyes. "I'm sure I don't," he said, his voice dripping ice. He stood smoothly. "It was a pleasure seeing you, Oliver, but it's late and I have a prior engagement elsewhere."

Amused, Oliver let the mage get a few steps away when he said, softly, "She misses you, mage."

Jehann stopped in his tracks, head bowed, but he didn't turn. "She needs to move past it," he said, gritting his teth. "And she needs to stop sending her brother to ambush me in efforts to change my mind."

"To the contrary," Oliver said, raising, "Mairwen has no idea I'm here."

The mage lifted startled eyes to his, and he nodded. "It's the truth. I didn't dare tell her I was here… she's determined to never bother you again, and if she had any idea of where I was right now, she'd most likely feed me to her cow."

Jehann registered distant amusement at the memory of his bovine nemesis, but pushed past it. "Then… then why are you here?" Jehann asked, puzzled.

Oliver sighed, tilting his head. "Because I think you forgot one thing when you made your honourable and difficult decision."

When the mage only stared at him, Oliver shrugged, starting to turn away. "You're convinced she'll wither with you in her life? Well, she's withering without you as well… and you forgot to take into account that perhaps, come what may, she loves you enough to find life without you unbearable."

He paused, turning back long enough to lay a hand on the mage's shoulder. "There is nothing dishonourable," he whispered fervently. "in wanting only the best for the people we love. But sometimes, we ARE what's truly best for them." With a final squeeze on the mage's shoulder, he turned and stalked away, not looking back.

Jehann, shaking, stumbled back to the bench and sank down onto it, burying his face in his hands.

When he lifted his head a few minutes later, his jaw was set, his eyes narrow, and he stood in a rush, moving purposefully towards the Horde quarter of the city.

Dammit, he'd be damned if he was going to make this decision alone… not now that he was ready to believe that perhaps she really did love him as deeply as she claimed.

As an afterthought, as he stepped through the portal leading to the Undercity and made his way to the flight master, he wondered if he should wear his helm… he figured odds were good she'd be coming out swinging once she realized who he was.

The thought of dodging her fists had him grinning, and he realized he must have it bad indeed if he was even looking forward to her abuse.

This is far too easy, he thought wryly later, watching idly as the hillsides rolled away underneath his riding bat. He was on his way to Tarren Mill, intending to make the trip from there, and he'd be willing to bet it would be a quicker one these days… Echo was much faster, not to mention much more patient, than the rickety nag he'd forced over the mountain 8 years ago.

Yes, he thought again laterstill, as he departed from the Mill & turned north, a decision this easy to make must surely be the right one… right?

The small sarcastic voice inside him, silent for so long, piped up.

Don't you DARE start second-guessing this decision, buddy.

With a grin, Jehann gave Echo full lead and bent low over the warhorse's neck, feeling the ground fall away beneath him, exhilarated as they ate the miles between man and lake.

Between the mage and the paladin.

His heart growing lighter with every mile they passed, Jehann cast a long shadow behind them as his figure grew ever smaller on the horizon, heading through the mountain pass. Before long, the mage's silhouette melted into the sky, and he was gone.

The only evidence that he'd ever been there was the slowly settling dust, drifting silently back to the dry road over which Jehann Frostheart had just passed for the last time.


	22. Epilogue

Epilogue

Home

I don't believe it. After all this, and you're STILL a coward.

Jehann winced. The voice was right… he was a coward. Imagine, he thought, Jehann Frostheart, accomplished mage and hero of the Horde… hiding above a human woman's garden as if it were 8 years ago!

Pathetic, he thought.

Her cottage was lit, the night dark but not so late that she'd retired, and her horse was tethered in his usual place. Taking a deep breath, Jehann lifted a foot, preparing to ease his way down the embankment to the garden.

He froze when he heard her door open, and with a hitched breath, he watched as she came around the corner, heading for her horse. She had a feed bucket in her hand.

He made a strangled noise in his throat, unable to stop himself.

Suddenly her head whipped around, startled by the noise he'd made in his throat, and he jumped, readying himself to retreat back into the bushes where he wouldn't be spotted. This is a bad idea, he thought wildly. I really should give it more thought, I…

With disbelief, he was suddenly aware that Echo had come up behind him, giving him nowhere to run… and with a calm precision that simply had to be deliberate, the warhorse lowered his head, rested his boney nose along the mage's back… and nudged.

Desperately trying to find purchase, the unbalanced mage tried to grip his horse's reins, but Echo danced out of reach, looking as amused as an undead horse possibly could… and with a very familiar sick feeling in his stomach, the mage went crashing 7 feet down and into her garden.

As Mairwen stared, stunned, Jehann threw himself to his back, glaring up at the top of the embankment. "You damn blasted horse!" he shouted, and he raised his fist, shaking it in the steed's direction. "I'll see you in hell for that, you devious beast!"

Huffing, he heaved himself to his feet and turned, bruised ego and all, to face the woman who had long since dropped her grain bucket. Sniffing, he pointed over his shoulder to the horse. "He's as bad as your damn cow."

As she won the fight against her shock and gave in, laughing helplessly, he approached with as much dignity as he cold manage and grabbed her shoulders. Looking down at her, he tilted his head, suddenly feeling as if he'd been waiting his entire life to say these words to her.

"I love you, too."

THE END


	23. Author's Note!

Author's Note:

I hope everyone enjoyed my little adventure… I've been writing fan fiction for some time but this is the first time I've left it open to public opinion! I tried to stay within acceptable boundaries of what would be 'realistic' as far as racial tensions etc, and some of the more observant of you no doubt noticed within minutes that Apothercary Keever had a definite "out of character" element to him :P But, since Keever only has one set dialogue that I'm aware of in the game, I had to expand it a bit hehe…. Hope no one took offence to me giving the guy a bit more of a voice!

Please review it, let me know what you thought and where you think I could make improvements… I have other idea floating around, so if I think you guys would like to read more of my stuff, I'll make sure it gets onto this site as it's finished!

As a side note, Jehann is currently found making his way back to Mairwen on Llane at the impressive level of 69... In the story, both are level 80 with the exception of poor Jehann when they met :P

Thanks for reading, and take care!

~Quantum Cascade


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